It’s only a creek, sometimes mostly dry,
but the June rains bring the clay
and it rushes past my door.

I hear the rain as it dances on my roof.
The leaves dance too.  All the birds
disappear while waiting for a break.

I love the sound as the water rushes by.
The stream has turned yellow.  It swirls
around curves and over grassy banks.

Yellow, so yellow
running away again
running away again…………………………