Creekside

(For Damon)


In the middle of a crowd
You can get alone
            Just to listen.
            Just to be.
You’re taken away to a quiet place.

            Barefoot
You step on stones made smooth
By years of cold water
That trickles down from up the mountain.
Sure, deliberate steps
And a spirit that is still.
            Skipping rocks,
            Collecting pebbles,
Thrilling at the feel of water
As it tickles around your ankles.
Little things you see
            Fool’s gold,
            A small snake,
All manner of interesting insect –
Things that go unnoticed
By we who admire the water
As we pass by and say,
“Wouldn’t it be nice to stop and stay
            Sometime.”

            You’re alone.
And God can talk to you
Because you have chosen
            Just to listen.
            Just to be.