Here at Creek's Edge

A memory of childhood, captured.

Here at Creek’s Edge

By: Tim Holt

 

The road set before us,

Unforgiving pavement meeting natural dirt,

The soles of our feet step upon the cool embrace of Earth,

Her benevolence simply yet divinely her nature.

 

The running sound of the creek whispers to us,

As we gallop over leaves and tree’s necks,

Enticing us onward to the chill but crisp water

In the crevice ahead.

 

We reach our enticement,

Ecstasy greets us as an old friend

As the sunlight glances of the fractured patterns

Of the water, still gently whispering into our ears.

 

We leap for our lives and are suspended in the air momentarily

Our insides seemingly indignant at the change of gravity,

Our screams of delight seen on young faces

As our feet make contact with the surface of the calm water.

 

The journeyers of the river quickly dart away from the intruders,

But we take no heed as we are completely submerged.

Reality distorted by the mighty liquid entity around us,

Our breath seeps out in the bubbles as our screams carry over into the water.

 

This is a place of joy,

Here we children find our happiness in simplicity, in nature.

No longer does anything exist aside from our paradise,

Here at Creek’s Edge.