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
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