An Appalachian Spring

Francesca Burkett

The thunder rolls, and lightning strikes;
Softly, raindrops patter.
In the valley, down mountain heights,
Slowly, raindrops gather.

Down from the dark and whispering heights
A stream begins to flow.
It trickles gently under starry lights,
And doesn’t seem to slow.

It tumbles down among the ferns,
And snakes along the valley.
Among the cliffs and rocks it churns,
Without the time to dally.

Always, always, and always down,
Tumbling over ridges;
Past hills and dales and tiny towns,
Bubbling under bridges.

It twinkles under moonlit skies,
Chattering as it goes.
It laughs and sings with each sunrise,
And sparkles as it flows.

It curves and twists through rustling reeds,
brushing hanging willows.
Past many thousand growing weeds,
Along the sandy hollows.

Birds and frogs jump in and out,
While it keeps a-going.
Here and there leap shining trout,
But onwards it keeps flowing.

It babbles down through many ways,
To join the flowing river.
It pours into the brimming bays,
To travel on forever.