Cracks the water child
to run through heather, bracken wild and down the track ways to the chiming of the sea.
The tears of summer day , a lost one somewhere down the way of all the Autumns I have seen,
water wears it all way as if it never was a day, but I remember it that way ,as if the smack of water and its lips would leap before my eyes and spray me till I, the droplet on my sunken treasure of a cheek would sneak a smile,
from this point of unsung singing brook it took a while to shuffle down the catapult of greens and browns that swam like trout, but in the getting out of midstream, where I dreamt this was a great dream,
I meet,
The splitting of the rush strewn banks where swans are graceful. I again give thanks for what was such a summer day,
now gone.
Autumn will not last so long that winter will not knock and I,
the rock
which water has worn down,
erode and melt away.