There's a lovely crik in Henry's Woods
That lightly laps at spider feet
And chuckle-tumbles over pebbles,
And runs around rocks.
It curves into shallow hollows,
Flowing near ferns,
Meandering over moist mosses,
And I stand in its sweet coolness,
My world's eighth wonder.

updated by @americymru: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM