Winter snow builds berms along the bed of the dry creek
Held back by saplings, old elms, vines: kings of the creek.
The brown of earth, decaying leaves, and granitic rock
Hold captive the wish for spring, a hope hidden within the creek.
March warms with winds that rush in and over winter's snow
Providing the show and flow of mountain melt through the creek.
Spring showers flood into earth's dry path, washing away the wait
And freeing the wish for the green, the life hope of the creek.
The kings bud out, bloom over, and spread sheltering limbs
For the Queen Mothers of fur and feather, hiding their homes within the creek.
And I stand in awe of the metamorphosis from decay to delight,
Turning at the breeze softly calling: Is that Sheri again at the creek?
On Flickr: The Creek
Reflect curiosity and wonder --Go boldly and scatter seeds of kindness...