The stream that flows near my house
comes from goodness knows where
and goes to goodness knows where.
I never visit it with dull skies,
but some days when sparkles shake the water
the dog takes a bath.
Has the stream perhaps scampered passed death;
a wild pig’s corpse
or maybe a tatty rotting bird?
Has it greeted fish of every sort;
eels and trout,
and cockerbullies* cowering in caverns?
Have the rough, rocky tumbles
bestowed both cheer and fear
on this joyful jolly journeyman jongleur?
Today I see it hubbubs happily on,
forgiving its past
and singing only of tomorrow’s adventures.
* Small New Zealand freshwater fish.
To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.