When I was a little girl,
I was entranced by streams.
Little brooks, running in ditches on roadsides,
meandering through thickets of woods.
Rainfed, clear.
Lined with pebbles and fallen leaves.
They were enchanted, the homes of fairyfolk, of woodland animals.
The light plays and glints
they gurgle and are silent
sometimes, when you return to a place
they're not there at all
...
Now, I am older, but still enthralled.
I know of more powerful waters,
those rivers and
their foaming white horses
swirling eddies
but is there anything so charming
so calming
as a little stream?
love,
a wet-footed wren
