The Creek

This place,
where willows watch with wandering eyes,
As lost souls stop for a sip.

The creek whirreles and swirreles,
When man’s hands seek
to quench their parched lips.

This place,
where the creek holds man’s hand,
Silently stretching it’s slippery grasp to consume sin

Spitting out only those whose washed away of their greed.

This place
where willows watch with wonder in their eyes,
As many men sink slowly down with a siren cry.