Jesse P.

The Stream

There is something so calming

In listening so keen

To the uneven trickle

Of this alpine Stream


What epic journey

Did such water endure?

To survive a path so rocky

To this hidden world


That ancient Blizzard, maybe?

Was it born to these mountains

When each fresh flake was a baby

Dancing in the white winds


Yet the frigid air

Crept up on that Snow

To dance, it no longer dared

It was just more snow


Shackles of Ice!

Quietly tied flakes together

Sitting stagnant

Seemingly forever


Only for that ray of sun to muster

The call that shook the shackled snow

Letting freedom flow from their new glassy luster

Down to the young spring stream below


Air not seen since the Blizzard, it seemed

Danced with the free stream with glee and glory

What a team

To pass on the timeless story


Here I sit, once shut into my own life

Let the lilting stream air fill my lungs

Knowing the freedom of living and glory of life

I even tasted the joy on my tongue


The shackles rip!

And I know it is time to go


In the sun’s golden gleam

I must say farewell to this stream


Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.