For Kevin’s No Theme Thursday: 10.24.24
In the forest deep, where the waters flow
What name do you call them?
Who can know?
A creek to some, a crick to others
I guess it all depends upon your druthers.
A river runs both wide and grand
while creeks and brooks weave through the land.
A crick might trickle, small and meek,
but to some folks, it’s still a creek.
A stream can babble, rush or glide
with reeds and frogs along its side.
A brook is quaint, with gentle bends.
A place where nature’s peace descends.
So whether crick or creek you say,
or steam or brook to guide your way,
remember, names are just a game.
The water’s flow remains the same.
NOTES: This poem is inspired by the many hikes that hubs and I take. There is a particular path that takes us over a small wooden bridge. We lightheartedly argue over whether it is a creek, a brook or a stream. Given my time living in the south, I had to also throw in crick as a legitimate possibility. I’ll let you all decide. 😉
Life is a dark ride 
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