Deep within the countryside
a clear and winding brook…
Covered by a canopy
of trees that nature hooked...
Sounds of water trickling down
this path forged long ago…
Whitecaps form around the stones
that try to block its flow...
Crossing to the other side
a game I often play...
Slippery stones my little path
sometimes I wished I'd stayed...
Every now and then I see
a deer with little ones...
Staring till the fear is gone
they drink and then they run...
All Rights Reserved Jon Arno 2013
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