My Stream

The stream has a name,
she whispers it to me,
while quietly gurgling past.
She tells me how big the world is,
she tells me how small infinity can be,
she talks about sadness,
and about happiness.
She tells me that we all die,
but not her.
She tells me about the deer
who drink with grace from her low banks.
She knows each beaver,
each fish,
each human ear willing to listen.
The stream has a name,
she tells me how small we really are.
She has a voice.
Listen

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.Molly C. Brown, age 14
Peterborough, New Hampshire
South Meadow School
Teacher: Sue Morash