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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. |
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