if i was a stream with bubbles for skin,
i’d flow over mud and the pebbles within.
i’d breathe with tadpoles in my lungs,
and hush them calm till summer comes.

i’d babble and sing with a voice like the rain.
i’d rise and i’d fall, but i’d never complain.
i’d drop with a crash and a splash and a plop,
then gently meander till everything stops.

and when the rains come, i’ll overflow.
and all the birds and fish will know
that i am a stream
that ever flows.