Living breathing
creatures all,
Hear them
crying,
hear them call!
In the marsh,
and in the sea,
Some are bound
and some are free;On the
mountains reaching
high
creatures all, they live
and die;
Some forgotten die
alone
Some leave traces to be
known.
For some life is but a
day,
Some have years to have
their say,
Some are still, some
roar at the moon,
Some are
always out of tune.
After sunup
hear the sound,
Countless
creatures all around.
Even
after sunset may come
Various
sounds and songs of some.
In the
tall grass they may live
Or
home the tall trees may
give,
Some may find the cave
their home
Open spaces others
may roam.
Creatures in their way
alike,
yet their own pathway
must strike
Living breathing
creatures all,
Hear them
crying, hear them
call!

The Cold Spring
Water
There
is more to a place than houses and
fields, and acres on a deed, there
are memories. There are memories
of valleys deep and shaded where
little springs ooze forth, and
wild flowers bloom. It is the
feeling one gets in autumn
climbing a hill, and the effect of
a summer shower that endears a
place. It is waking up to familiar
sights, and getting to love the
things we have become so used to
that we would not change them for
all the world.
A home is a
feeling deep inside us, and no
matter where we go or what we do,
we never forget our childhood
home. I remember the spring that
flowed near my childhood farm
house. The spring flowed from the
base of a hill, and it was the
coldest, clearest, sweetest water
in the world. As a boy I used to
lower my fingers into its cold,
clear water, and wonderat the
tinkling coldness of the water
even in the heat of summer.
The
water was so cold I could not hold
my fingers in the water very long
without them becoming numb. I saw
it in the heat of summer still
pouring its cold stream forth
while the ground around revealed
large cracks for want of rain, and
I remember seeing the brown leaves
and acorns from the old oak tree
standing just above it fall and
almost clog its free flow in
autumn.
I remember seeing the
ice in winter freeze part way over
it, but never more, and I recall
the snow banked on both sides. In
the springtime I remember how the
world came alive again around the
spring's sparkling waters.I
remember unloading hay
into the barn, and then walking
over to the spring feeling hot,
dusty, and as if I was going to
suffocate, and then taking a drink
of the cold water and how good it
tasted. I used to dip the dipper
into the water and lift it to my
mouth, and not drink right away,
but just breathe in the water's
clean, fresh smell before drinking
it.
The water from the spring
made me feel refreshed, and to see
the whole world in a clearer,
fresher light. Sometimes I would
look into its clear waters, and
wonder at its unceasing stream. I
would wonder what strange
subterranean passages it must flow
through. Sometimes I would wonder
about what sights it has witnessed
over the ages, and what it may yet
behold before the day it stops
flowing. Everytime I drank of the
waters of that wonderful spring I
felt a new love and appreciation
for life.