Stream

Gush...flowing slow, unhurried, clear and cold,
The stream into stillness.
White, with gentle patches
Of light blue, brown and green.
In a deserted spot near water,
The grass is mellow,
The trees wide with shade,
The smell is of the virgin country.
Now and then coy chirping,
Then stillness.
The clouds, the only ones
Busying themselves
With moving.
True, the stream speaks,
Saying nothing but
Be still.