Cycle of the Stream

Under the sun the spring begins a trickle
ever so slow, ever so light, as if a tickle
wandering amongst the rocks and leaves
so does our newborn stream weave

A new dawn arises and dew forms,
again our stream grows through evening storms
Now more than a trickle, now a gush
making our beautiful forest nice and lush

Our stream becomes a river ever so roaring
seen from far above by the eagle soaring
tadpoles cling to the pools
and the minnows form schools

Rapids rush and the thunderous falls loom ahead,
the cool water turns white where many will not tread

Surrounded by mist and faint rainbows
our fallen river begins to slow
emptying into the glacier carved lake
we've found a perfect place to take a break.