At the Creek Bottom
At the Creek Bottom
...I find my soggy soul.
The breeze off the lake
begins to chill my already
rain dampened mood.
But a walk in the woods
is all it takes to rediscover
that missing part of me
submerged, yet still alive,
at the creek bottom.
So I fish out my soul,
and in so doing awaken
something deep within,
a little bit frustrated,
and maybe a whole lot angry
about forgetting my belonging
to this natural world.
Now I'm feeling annoyed
and even more uncertain,
as I ponder what to do
with my awakened soul.
Could this be the Great Spirit
urging me to breathe new life
into all the sleeping souls
I encounter on my journey?
Poetry is thoughts that breathe,
and words that burn.
~ Thomas Gray
