Backwoods Creek
I flow down the tributary,
splash and meander until I reach my quiet retreat.
Where the poplar trees touch the sky and
river grass swims out to meet me.
Rain clouds are the roadmap to my destiny.
Slowly I drift and want to linger, where the
coffee colored trees are woven tightly together.
I touch a woodsy unforgotten glen.
Bass hide under woody debris,
while rain raps on my surface.
A frog swims swiftly through black water,
as a choir of crickets chirp loudly.
It is here in the still backwoods,
where I restore my soul.
The cycle of water consumes, and
quietly, with rain drizzling down, I renew.
Published by: Kudzu Literary Journal
