There’s a creek near the trees in our pasture,

Where smooth rocks make the froth fluffy white.

There the gurgling and sighs of the water,

Match the vision of sparking delight.

Many times through the years in hot summers,

I have stolen seclusion and peace,

In that shade watching fly tiny hummers,

As all sorrow and trouble released.

Nothing earthly replaces the feeling

Of cool water on feet dusty hot.

So my mind daily strays to go stealing

To that nurturing beautiful spot.

Now saddened am I for our young ones,

Who absorb all their lives in TV.

They miss winter’s grey skies and bright spring suns,

And when needing respite, none they see.

They’ve been raised by a boxed baby-sitter,

With control that’s remote, so they stay

Watching cops in pursuit, kitty litter,

Soaps, and cartoons, while they never play.

When the time comes in days in the future,

As adults they need mental release,

Will they have anything to remember,

That will sooth all their woes, give them ease?

There’s a creek near the trees in our pasture,

Where the rocks cause a musical sound.

To the shade I now take my grandchildren,

So their souls can refresh and rebound.

Music: Solitude

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