Babble
The spring brook
ran through the sun dappled woods
like a child at recess,
tumbling pebbles and tossing sticks.
The brook babbles of up coming May,
as it roars past the roots
of skunk cabbage, and barren birches.
Blue jays and robins drink at its edge
singing with the nectar, the run off,
the rebirth of ice, to pure water.
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