A Stream After Rain

The bottom is a mottled healthy brown A city of roots from overhanging trees Minnow flit from light to shade to shadow The surface dappled an intricate faux pas frieze.  Up ahead the stream winds slowly out of sight A magic portal to a time of boyhood pleasures A gentle curve inviting me come explore To lose my shoes and search for pirate treasure  It must have looked strange to   traffic  Me standing on an old wooden bridge Transfixed and staring at nothing I hope they believe  in live and let live