Down by the Creek (a poem)

We’re at the creek because this is a happy place

for us – the birdsong is soothing, the trickling water

reminds me these places exist in reality –

not just the online world we live in.

I take pictures, put my phone away, breathe in

fresh air – sunlight reflects off muddy water,

he climbs moss-covered rocks, searching for

a good spot to cast his line.

Trout nibble on the line, and I relish

getting mud on my boots and claiming

a long branch as a walking stick.


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