There was a brook that wended
Through a forest. Its ancient path
A trace of thousands of years.
Majestic noble rocks, rounded with time,
The instruments of the water’s song.
Moss and fern cling to their mottled surface,
Lovers performing a summer kiss.
The hours are without motion,
Hands on a clock refuse to move.
The brook performs its symphony,
Life flourishes in its coolness.
Spiders skate on placid pools
As leaf boats languidly voyage
Fairies on holiday past rippling reeds.
Magic stirs the woodland air,
The old trees join hands above,
A cathedral protecting precious life.
The stream banks are crowded with flowers,
Awakened by a breeze from drowsy slumber.
The harmony, an Audubon painting,
Dazzling with the wonder of life.
The ink of creation still wet
Waiting for nature to exhale.
There was a brook.
Copyright: 2010, Donald Harbour