Feral Creek

Nearing the creek, of which only their eyes laid, the water rejoiced in their wake.

The moonlit water grazed the ankles of two small children, asking for more.

The wind-rattled cattails cried out, being trampled as the children played.

It swirled and buzzed with up-and-coming life, yet soon more.

Tattered shirts and little white lies whisked their way into the creek.

As ripples take the children underneath, beaming and chuckling over and more.

The youngest cried out, a shard pointing high, yet blood dribbling down.

Glass shredded feet, rinsed in the life-giving creek, stung yet more.

Wounded pride and murmuring stomachs reminded them they were still human.

The worn trail threatened to tattle as they trotted home, knowing well they’d be seeking more.