The Creek

I may add more on.

I close my eyes and just listen to my surroundings the creek provides. I hear a multitude of birds chirping gleefully near and far. The random croak of a bullfrog joining in the crazy chorus of voices. My ears focus on what is closer to me and I hear a distant chiming; laughs of children playing in and around the creek’s cold, rushing water. The water itself speaks in its own language, babbling like a baby playing with its mobile. The easy breeze ruffles every tree it touches, leaves whispering to each other; gossip spreading quickly. Cicadas hum a droning thrum, loud and clear and a woodpecker hammers quickly against a hollow tree. It stops and starts again, jack-hammering a different tree. I open my eyes and smile at my expectant friend, everything I just experienced fading quickly as I can see everything. The trees, bark damp with water, which whisper to one another, barely move in the soft breeze. The leaves shiver, flashing arrays of dark greens in the light of the sun; the color pops against the dark brown of the tree’s bark. Water, murky yet clear, rushes through its private road, folding in on itself when it brushes against the base of the scattered trees. Small whirlpools form, lasting only a few seconds before the current takes them away to an unknown end. The birds are loud, yet hidden masterfully - the cicadas and bullfrogs, too. The scene is calm, yet it is full of life happening around me.

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[Chris]

A setting awaiting a happening... a stage for?