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A STREAM

April 28, 2019 Brad Peebler

A STREAM

The water is the only thing I can hear,

The stream is whispering things in my ear,

Telling me secrets only the plants and animals know.

Birds welcome the burbling stream

As it briefly sees this part of the world

Before it moves on to see the rest.

I smell the fresh water that came from an unseen spring miles upstream

Where the Earth gives birth to the water

Spilling the young stream onto the soil.

New flowers spring up all around me,

Welcoming spring,

Carrying scents sweeter than honey to my nose.

Bees step onto their delicate petals

Telling the flowers stories

Of the world they can’t see.

I taste the clean air,

The last bitter cold of winter melts away in my mouth,

But it stays in the frigid stream for eternity.

The stream is in front of me, as clear as crystal.

I can see the moss-covered rocks below the surface.

The water covers them in a blanket.

A deer licks the fresh water, happy to find it unpolluted.

The dappled sunlight falls on his soft brown coat.

Water drips from his wet muzzle, back into the stream where it belongs.

My fingers slip into cold water, cold as ice,

But I am filled with warmth

To know water will always be a part of me.

It licks my fingers

As if to say how happy it is to see an old friend.

I smile as I watch the stream change and shift.

LET OTHERS KNOW