Flowing of the river
like thoughts through their minds.
At parts quick and clear,
At parts dark, not all kind.
Water cascades quickly,
down and around the rocks.
The fresh sound of it now,
opens up a memory lock.
Being young and carefree,
dipping toes in the brook.
Wading through the reeds,
to find shells to be took.
How it felt to gaze in water,
looking for fish and frogs.
So inquiring, so waunderful,
dodging all the fallen logs.
Walking miles up the river,
curious as can be,
to see one more tree,
one more flower gave glee.
Their imaginations were good,
as the surroundings were.
Wandering for some time,
to see creatures with fur.
The air was the best,
to breathe in from the source.
Pines here everywhere,
reaching up with great force.
In these days they knew not,
of the climate crisis to come.
Just care-free and light,
They knew not of feeling numb.
Numb to the air,
to the waters,
to the earth itself...
It's scary where we are headed.
