Stream

The water is downfalling from the sky,
coursing through puddles and passing me by,
trickling in droplets and filling the stream,
hydrating fishes which all dart and gleam.
Polliwogs kicking, rain droplets splash,
the thirsty approaching, timid or rash.
The children are waiting for their escape
to dance in puddles, to crow and to jape.
The roebuck bends down and then hesitates,
steals a few sips, but they've opened the gates;
the small deer flees before humans arrive,
cries of the young, and the strong, and alive.
The stream, she will fall, swell, and fall again;
a pattern repeating, to wax and wane.