It runs over me, little streamlets passing.

The brooklet tumbles and flows.

Cuffs on my jeans rolled up two times,

The breeze kisses the wind-swept willows.

Ankles cold and feet unsteady

Wobbling down the stream.

Pebbles poke, hummin’ a medley

and lighting with the gleam

Of the sun on the water, sun on my face,

Sun in the azure sky.

A moment that time can never erase

As a twiglet toddles on by.

Rippled ridges upon the top

Of clear water that gurgles and creeps.

The water, stone cold, awakens my mind

As my spirit finds calm relief.

Down the road these ankles may be blued and v’d

With Wisdom’s aging payment.

But as long as I can stand near the willow weed

And see the enchanted embankment,

I’ll be young forever without a doubt,

For magic is in the trees.

And the gentle sweet lull of the freshwater trout

Makes me smile into the breeze.