The Creation of Fingle Brook and Crinkly Den, poetry by Jacqueline Mead at Spillwords.com
GROK

The Creation of Fingle Brook and Crinkly Den

The Creation of Fingle Brook and Crinkly Den

written by: Jacqueline Mead

@Jackiem158

 

To the west of a great lake sits Fingle Brook to the east lies Crinkly Den.
Two areas of natural beauty, together, scoring a perfect ten.

Folk stories are told of the day that mother nature dropped by.
She opened her paint box, chose a bright blue hue, and started to paint the sky.
To finish, she adorned it with a large golden yellow eye.

A lake of emerald, green, completed the idyllic scene.
Inviting peace and tranquillity in a place of calm and serene.
The likes of which to compare are few and far between.

Not satisfied that her work was finished, she surrounded the lake with beautiful landscaping.
Creating mountains, hills, river, streams, brooks and thermal springs.
It was a marvellous place for hiking, fishing and swimming.
Canoeing, kayaking and boating.

There were waterfalls up high, that cascaded through the thick, forming a pool.
Hikers would often take a break here to refresh and get cool.
Eating their sandwiches and drinking tea, sat amongst the hillside covered in moss, lichen and toadstools.
Fisherman casting lines and reeling in their spools.

Rivers and streams carried the water from the mountains, tossing and turning as they make their way over rocks and stones.
Rivers turned to streams, as the waters slowed.
Inviting romance, young girls sitting, kissing, with their beau.

Streams slowly make their way into a brook, shaded by a canopy of trees, some with the darkest of green, others with the fiercest red leaves.
Nestling amongst golden fields of wheatsheaves.
Sheafs of wheat cropped and ready to be stored.
A bounty of wheat, to be added to the farmers bountiful, hoard.

Mother nature looked to the East of the lake, it was empty, not one to waste space, she created a copse of willow trees.
Their long boughs ladened with their yellow and brown seed, catkins, hanging like lambs tails, bending in the breeze.
A space offering shade to children, playing in the den.
Children 90 years young accompanied by children under ten.

Lastly a carpet of flowers, tulips, primroses, lilies, cornflower, bluebells and daisies, covered the land.
It was as if Monet had taken his brushes and brought to life his paintings in these lowlands.

Almost satisfied, mother nature then created sunset and sunrise.
Opening their windows in the morning, locals would be greeted by the beautiful skies,
As the sun began to set the sky changed from blue, to burnt umber.
As darkness descends and another day is put asunder.

Each night, at just the right time, people would gather at the dock and wait for the sun to drop.
The colours would darken, and the beauty of the area, once more, would pop.

People gave thanks for the work of mother nature and the end of another day.
There was hope that tomorrow would start anew, bringing forth another glorious today.

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