A Journey At Maxwell's Creek Poem by The Original Tom Maxwell

I'm standing on the bridge,
Watching, the water, flowing South, in Maxwell's Creek,
As I see it passing under me, I turn my head to take a peek,
I notice the banks, are getting wider, the creek is getting, deep,
For safety, and protection, I have rubbers on my feet.

Small ditches, overflowing, new puddles everywhere,
It's the end of December, leaves have fallen, limbs are bare,
The temperature, close to sixty - degrees,
Taking in the energy & beauty, as I stand and stare.

Walking back North towards, Schauberts Bridge,
I can hear in the distance, a natural water fall,
A comforting sound, mixed with the chirping,
From a variety, of birds, nature all around,
Enjoying the energy, the earth, stores, for us from the sun,
The scene here, today, will be gone tomorrow,
Enjoy the beauty of each moment, tomorrow it will be flowing,
In another town.


The original: Tom Maxwell © 12/29/2024 AD