The Stream

Here I sit in stillness.
A rising sun warming 
the remains of a cold winter night.

The gurgling of a stream
silencing, thank God, 
the highway just beyond the trees.

Water of life,
cool and clear,
traveling its wild path
past mossy stones and gnarled roots.

Who am I to know this Eden?
We should have cast out long ago,
our path blocked by swords of fire.

Yet we are still here
beneath oceans of breathable sky.
Standing on a thin layer of dirt 
and life.

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