This Poem was Submitted By: Donna Jean Holton On Date: 2000-07-18 13:03:53 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Creek

                     I love to hike back and sit                   leaning against this huge old tree                    a heart with initials L.H. + D.S.                           etched into the side.                           I watch the creek                    winding its way through the woods                 to empty itself into the Kalamazoo River.                       The sun shines through trees                    onto water sparkling like diamonds.                   In spring buttercups and wake-robins                       grow along the banks so thick                       they become nature's bouquets.                          Minnows swim nervously                 being careful not to become the next meal                           for hungry intruders.                             I hear trickling                           of little waterfalls                      where beaver busily build dams                        with fallen trees and limbs.                       I see tracks of whitetail deer                          where they stop to drink                            the clear cold water.                          In autumn the salmon make                          their way upstream to spawn              only having to repeat this same cycle next year.               I think back and see two innocent little girls                          sneaking into the woods                          stripping down to panties                           splashing in the water                         catching polliwogs to put                          in their glass containers                Picking blood suckers off each others legs                 before dressing and scurrying back home                          not wanting to get caught.                     The creek still remains although              nature's carving has given it a different shape                             as the years go by.                But the memories will always stay the same.

Copyright © July 2000 Donna Jean Holton


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