Thursday, January 20, 2011
My poetry: The Creek
After a storm,
The water in a creek seems to be in a hurry,
Falling over itself, flinging itself on rocks,
Roaring, bubbling, tumbling on its way to the ocean.
But on a clear day, the water is lazy,
You can bathe in it, the geese ride it easily.
It has no care in the world,
And no recollection of yesterday's storms.
It is the angry water that has power,
Erodes the earth, carves the canyons, drains the floods,
Carries silt and stones, drowned animals, fallen limbs,
Cleansing the Earth, leaving it fresh and clean.