A brook bubbles along
swollen from recent rain
tumbling over rocks,
whose mossy tops
comb the water.

The elderly owner
of a shuffling tread
creaks the spanning bridge
and waves a wordless grüß Gott
in passing.

And the whoosh of town traffic
whispers its sigh
after a sun-dreary day
of clicking and clacking
mouses and keyboards.

And floating over it all
high and clear
is the sound of a child’s voice
singing.