As it trickles,
moving slowly, gracefully
around obstacles
oozing through twigs
the water, icy and fresh
wayward barnacles
frozen to a rock
escaped from a mesh
salty and broken.
The movement of the stream
will gradually knock
them when woken.
The cuckoo chirps
claiming his nest
not his but now is
the noise disturbs
the rest.
The stream meanders
along singing its tune
swilling this and that
by the light of the moon.
Badgers creep along the bank
brushing their whiskers
from where they drank.
the morning comes too soon
The night becomes day
The stars twinkle on last time
and with a grin fade away.
The sun dips the stream with joy
warming the icy flow
grasses sip the drops
from which they glow
they are the cream of the crops.
Trickling along
in a cold water dream
Singing a song
the beautiful stream.