Ed Ellsworth

THE STREAM

Untamed bouquets – of moss and thistle
Fresh mist, did fashion the dew
Morning dove’s captured whistle
Emerge the dawn with life anew

Glinting racing rapids galore
A panorama of eddies and fluid wave
Foam to fountain seem all the more
Swiftly passing from birth to grave.

Every surging course, an orchestrated tune
Striking notes over stone and boulder on the way
Splashes a crescendo that none to soon
Dissolves the weary worries of the day

Endless, it frays upon the ground
This rhythmic cascading dream
A most sweet seductive sound
Whispers to me, as I linger by the stream