Anne M. Blanchard

(Seattle, Washington)


Twisting, dashing down a cliff,
dancing waters fall so fast,
joining many other streams,
making a river large, at last. Gurgling, laughing over boulders,
singing wordless melody.
There are nooks on mossy banks
to read a story, or just be. Sparkling droplets of mist
makes you feel so cool.
Down the water trail

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