Wading The Creek

Poem By Zane Blythe Dalton

Have you ever felt the sand and mud between your toes,
And watched the spring water pour into the creek as it glows?
The crawfish, tadpoles, minnows, and baby turtles vie for position,
And strive dutifully to complete their mission This adventure is extra special when you are only eleven.
The hours pass fast; you forget that you must be home by seven.
The glass Kerr jar is full with the day's treasure,
And the canteen's drinking water has gotten too small to measure. As you ride your bike home, some things come to mind:
The smooth, flint rocks, and even a real goldfish I did find.
The smell of wild flowers, and the pinch of the crawfish.
What a day it has been; what more could I wish.

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