I live near a creek.
I have lived here all my life.
I have seen its many seasons of ups and downs.
I have seen the rain come, causing it to rise.
I have been with it through times of drought.
When no rain was to be seen and the water was depleting,
It still flowed- life sustaining. It is always brown,
though it has its clearer days.
Days that seem tranquil, placid,
where the river seems to be at rest.
Those days I can sit idly by and watch it,
the clouds hovering over me;
the grass tantalizing my nose with its rich fragrances;
the faint aroma of wildflowers that create a perfume
nestled against the banks. After a heavy rain
the banks can turn into a marsh like sponge, and I can feel
the ground molding to the forms of my feet.
I have also seen days where the river seems filled with rage;
when limbs and leaves are swept away-
down the heavy current. The creek is no mighty river.
But, all great rivers have their sources;
I live near one of those sources.
I am privileged to be here.
There is relaxation on its banks, I know it.