Turgid water and the spume over rocks flies face up to the sun, sparkling in droplets into the verdant banks
My thoughts race and I follow the stream , ankle deep the cold numbing my sense of touch. Feeling Rock bottom feeling the rush.
The stream is trout deep and dappled by the shingle . It crawls to its edge to lap gently . My pace slows and I feel the tug of the still eager current.
Skin tingles. The shadows mingle . The canopy above filters sunlit chlorophyll. And I'm at peace. Thoughts stillled
Stones disturb the flow and give voice to the water which fills, the silence. I collect my muse and give voice. My heart spills over the gurgling rills.
The bridge is reached and reaches the span.
Only a whisper is heard in the trees as the surface of the stream responds to a soft breeze. I breathe.
A place to stop. To think . To express. To move on from here. Leave the current and the winding course of imagination and find solid ground.
