Back eddies, those points along the stream where the a thread of current spins round on itself.
Usually you spot them along the bank, where an obstruction intervenes, could be a stone or perhaps a tree (willow splitting open?) fallen over. Part of the current has to shift and centrifugal forces take over. The bank, if soft enough, and the obstruction persistent, will be nibbled away at and the depths of the pool-ette scoured out by the slick winter flows.
I imagine the word 'pool-ette' to evoke not much more than a bump in the current. 'Pool' sounds too grand affair for what I have in mind; stretch your arms out a way, about that wide.
An edge, a wavering crease, is formed where the slack backing up water meets the main flow. It's a peaceful place.
Last night it rained in torrents
Still the clouds linger on
Reluctant to leave the earth.
Slowly closing the door
With barely a blush of sound-
The cat snores on.
revealing her form
according to the landscape
she forms in her flowing,
the river’s river runs
These hands carry memory,
As if words trying to express
The unfolding essence of heart-
The cry of the crow at dawn.