VISITORS

Water trickled slowly over old seasoned stones
Moss covered surfaces dulled their sharper edges.
A single lane was the rough old wooden bridge that
Covered the mysterious creek below which would
Call quietly to me, inviting me to come and sit awhile.
Resting on my haunches, I take in the buzzing creek life.
Crawdads were swimming backward when threatened.
Ferns move slowly echoing the call of the wild to all.
A crawdad is dining on its discarded shell while several
Moms carry newly hatched babies on their tufted backs.
Tadpoles swim with purpose, and Lilly pads bloom nearby.
A baby bunny runs close to the creek bed on the other side.
Silence is a friend of mine, the babbling brook a kind reminder,
That all life has a purpose, meaning and clarity comes from
Knowing that it is God's earth, we are simply visitors here.

Written by JK Caggiano 9/16/19 – a poem about a creek I visited often when living in Lexington, KY as a teenager. I escaped from home every chance I got and this place was so beautiful, it was easy to see God everywhere. Love ya’ll Joni

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