Ode to a Babbling Brook

(Here is the first poems that I wrote at Philmont. I wrote it in 1994 after a very tough day of hiking. I was sitting on a large rock in the middle of a creek enjoying the last rays of sunshine before the sun dipped behind the canyon wall.)

Here I sit at a babbling brook.
The rock I sit my path hath took.
Water finding every nook,
It is everywhere I look.
Like a page from a dusty book
Stealing the view I am a crook.