You'd go for a walk in the woods
where the trees are tall
and covered with moss.
The tangle of leaves would block the sun,
light reflecting in shadowy patches
on your face, on the trees and on the path
that would curve, steeply, into the darker depths.
A cool mist of yesterday's rain
and a smell of dirt and must
would hang, heavy, in the air.
You'd come across a stream,
suddenly and unexpectedly.
It would be narrow and mostly shallow
looking not all that impressive,
fast and chaotic though, very energetic.
You would see the pebbles within
and larger rocks too
and the water would pool and jump
flowing, laughing, over and in between.
Sunlight would fall and bounce on every sprinkle
breaking into rainbows and sparkle.
You'd hear the water sing in splashes
burbling in casual invitation.
You'd watch it shuffle away fallen leaves,
branches, and eventually, to your surprise
the sadness from your heart.
You'd find yourself breathing easily again.
And with every tiny lizard you see
on the banks, on the rocks, sunbathing
you won't be able to help your spirits lifting.
If you leave right then,
all will be well, gone and forgotten.
But if you instead linger
Trying to hold on to that feeling again
You will find out for sure
How a spring is just like fire
No second chances.
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