Little River

Little River
-Lori Pereira

Breezes tickle my nose,
as rays of the sun gleam from above,
casting shadows that dance
upon the glistening river’s flow.
Pine, Mountain Laurel, Oak, and Maple—
hues of greens, browns, yellows, and reds—
the Artist’s pallet on display.
The rustling of leaves entice my ears
with gentle whispers of a soft melody.

My weary soul, longing for refreshment,
to cast aside the stress and demands
of a thankless job and unreasonable boss.
No more meetings, reports, or deadlines—
ringing phones now made silent.

I must get closer to drink this nectar of Nature.
I loosen my sandals and venture in.
My toes rewarded with refreshing delight,
my body responding with tiny chill bumps.
Water trickling gently over my feet,
yet flowing with a rush of power,
as I peak toward the river’s bend.
My mind tastes this lushness of nature,
as I embrace the coolness of its gentle flow.
A finger’s touch of stone—so smooth and solid—
and a gentle brush of my hand against a rock that sparkles,
I shall not abandon my grasp of Little River.