Berkshire Stream

Born of snow on Berkshire Mountain, winter’s beauty lies a sleeping. Snow on snow in layers piling Kept in place by nature’s freezer When the voice of springtime whispers, days are longer, air grows warmer. Sleeping beauty starts her stirring, melting, moving, freely flowing. Berkshire weeping tears of labor, water trickles through the channels, left by previous birthed streamlets. Merging, melding, gently, gliding. First a trickle, weak and feeble. Then like ski jets swiftly skimming, over rocks and fallen timber, downward dashing, gullies, gashing. When the thunder starts to rumble, And the clouds are rent asunder. Raindrops pour as pails of water, Causing stream to roar and thunder. After months of Berkshire weeping, Like a broken faucet flowing, tears abate, the crying ceases. Summer’s ending, streambed drying.