Mountain Brook

Another year’s supply
dwindling, it seems,
has fallen, blanketing the peaks
of each craggy mountain top.

When it warms, a trickle starts.
Gentle but fast.
It’s small, but it has a mission;
a direction and path has been established

Now a babbling brook,
bubbling, unpredictable
Rocky, powerful rapids.
Then a slow and gentle pool

Speeding up,
a rush to an end.
Then airtime!
A roaring landing so far below.

Looking lazy and relaxed;
but much bigger, much faster, much more.
Quiet and beautiful, deceptive beauty,
the flow runs deep and the flow runs cold.

Free Verse: 20 lines