#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,

... [enter Honeybee]

Dew creeps along the streams,
Like ghosts dancing in summer breeze,
The water is cool its aroma of moss,
The ripples and waves continuosly lost,


Owls hooting to the rising moon,
And lurk for fish beneath the blue,
Once the sun sets across the streams,
They shall feast on the fat of the weak,

Quiet yet loud is what it seems,
The waters rapid tossing and turning,
The rocks glow beautifully beneath moon and sun,
The fog grows thicker as moon has won,

The night is young as the river slows,
Crickets chirp as frogs splash toward home,
The thick of the mist creeps steadily against currents,
This river's the heart of the land giving bountiful service..

Honeybee
© ShaySade