As wind blows,
and birds fly away,
the clear water flows,
never moving astray.
Ruler of the woods,
giver of life,
when surrounded by hardwoods,
you are not afraid to run rife.
The courage of this brook,
that runs rampant with glee,
is a guidebook
for you and me.
For the water flows forever,
carrying memories long forgotten.
So, I sit wherever,
listening to how the world turned rotten.
With each morrow unknown,
uncertainties are abound,
the one comfort known,
is that this brook will be around.
Emily Johnston