I love to hear, the running water sound,
Bouncing down, in and out and all around,
Slipping and sliding, in many a bound.
From the tall mountains, it will tumble and pound.
One afternoon in the Summertime,
Locked in traffic, for quite sometime.
With their older sister, our twins,
Put their Mom on needles and pins.
High on a little hill,
We found tracks with a will.
Right there in the dust,
In a hurry or bust.