A Country Creek

A Country Creek A country creek in January It looks so cold, it’s almost scary The banks are dusted with the snow The ice impedes the water’s flow The trees are bare, no sign of life The wind cuts through you like a knife The sky is gray, the sun won’t shine It’s not a favorite site of mine But a country creek in early June Is a place I’d like to visit soon The banks are plastered with footprints The water flows, in fact it sprints The trees are green and full of birds The wind now carries nature’s words The sky is blue, the sun shines bright If I could stay there, I just might