The mountain stream

Tumbling towards  the sea,    
silver in the evening light    
across  hills and far away.    
I lay, my head close to the    
dancing water its message clear,    
all round blissful chaos that is nature.    
Above, clouds drift white and soft,    
towards the  sea black clouds loom,    
deers  nervous as they graze.    
Swans take flight across the lake    
wakes of dripping water from their feet    
Otters on the shore and nature sleeps.    
   
I cross the stream stoop to drink    
hands  cupped . . . intoxicated.    
No thoughts  no plans for tomorrow,    
chaotic, child-hood puzzles    
myriad  pieces, never still or silent,    
peace beyond all understanding.    
I'll stay until the swans return    
be it now or in the morning.