I remember standing beside the beautiful brook
Motionless, listening and looking
Babbling water splashing on the rocks
Below and above mingling on the surface.
There are wary brook trout here
Spooked by a shadow or a footfall.
My mother is fishing by herself this summer day.
She let me come with her to watch.
All my life I have loved water flowing
Rippling waves sparkling in the sun
Gurgling sounds not quite intelligible
Speaking to me like a voice in a distant dream.
Another time standing on a log across a brook
Stirring the water below with a stick
Blissed out by the beauty of the place
I fell into the brook.
The shock of that sudden wet and cold
And my father’s reprimand that followed
That’s why the memory is etched
But it's not the memory I keep close.
The boy down by the brook by himself
Floating in a timeless reverie.
I remember the peaceful feeling
Letting my thoughts flow past.
