Winter Stream

  

Morning sun sends streaks of rays

     to nurture icy creeks;

they turn to stars in rippled waves

     that devour sparkling treats;

A nourishing celestial meal

     quenched by melting snow,

sustains small life which you conceal

     in relentless hurried flow;

I softly step your frozen shore

     and peer through water's sheen;

some shiners dance your sandy floor

     which currents have swept clean;

A chilly breeze whose presence known

     by brushstrokes on your surface,

has scripted a concentric poem

     upon your glossy canvas;

The wind yields silence through your trees,

     no leaves to sing its rapture;

it wanders upstream aimlessly,

     leaving but a whisper;

Then finds on perch a great-horned owl

     to walnut branch it clings,

and relentlessly starts teasing now

     until the bird takes wing;

And suddenly this quiet grace

     erupts in noisy chorus,

a flock of crows gives raucous chase

     this sentinel of your forest;

The valley's blessed by peace once more

     as intrusion slowly fades;

Chickadees show a grand support

     by calling out their names;

Did you see the drama in your depths

     or taste the frosted snow?

Did you feel the cold wind to your breast

     or hear the birds' fine prose?

It matters not, I sense inside,

     if winter streams don't know,

the special treasures they provide

     these pleasures to my soul.