A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its bosom hide. It sings of journeys from the mountain high, Where eagles dance against the sapphire sky. Two children pause to hear its liquid tune, Their laughter blending with the afternoon. They chase the light that dances on the wave, As moments pass, too beautiful to save. The water tells of ancient rains and snows, Of roots it nourished and the bloom it grows. It flows beyond the valley’s emerald rim, A silver t...
