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My Creek
My Creek
There you would find me, sitting under the bridge.
Toes in my creek, enjoying the feeling of sand underneath me
and the shade from the long-overgrown brush.
Nature’s silence, almost calm enough to hear the corn grow.
Crops become a privacy fence
enclosing me in my little divot of land.
Watching as the minnow flow through my creek,
not a care in their world.
As the neighbors drive by, they peer into my creek,
tainting my secret cove with outsider knowledge of such a place.
The youngest one’s eyes cling to my path as he invades my creek,
destroying the confidentiality of my sandbar.
Days later I find my minnows
no longer flowing through my creek.
They are stuck in a cage that is not mine.
I free my minnows and enjoy their release.
Again, another day, my minnows are trapped.
I sever the wires of the cage that is not mine,
rendering the cage useless.
I watch as my minnows swim away with their life..
Again I return, this time with Mom.
We catch them in the act,
preying on my minnows that are no longer mine.
Mom tells me to share my creek.
I will not share my creek.
My means mine.
I destroy the traps once again,
this time burying the pieces just below the sand.
I place jagged, sharp rocks on my path.
I write DON’T COME BACK in my sand.
I cut poison ivy from the vine and cover my sand in the wretched plant,
waiting for havoc to come.
I watch out my bedroom window.
The neighbors come to my creek
and leave quite quickly.
I rush to my creek to check its conditions.
My plans have worked.
No more traps were added.
My path was untouched.
I won back my creek just as swiftly as it had gone.
Later that day, there is a knock on the door and I emerge from my room.
I find my mom and the neighbor family
as the young boys cower behind their towering mother; I begin to cry...
guilt washes over me.
I’m sorry, I say as genuine as can be,
but sorry does not cut it.
The boys are quite itchy,
rashes creeping up their spindly arms.
I’m so sorry, I say once again,
Mom snaps back and sends me to my room.
I’m not to come out until I’ve thought about what I’ve done.
I dwell on my guilt.
I look out the window as the neighbor boys leave happier than ever,
my guilty conscience quickly switches to rage.
My dad had given them each a twenty-dollar-bill-
for new minnow traps.
I storm out of my room, slamming the door shut behind me.
My anger permeates through the house.
I march pass my mom,
cramming my sockless feet into my shoes.
Dad blocks my route to the door.
He holds out his wallet with a smile on his face,
Good job sticking up for yourself, that’s my girl! he smirks.
My anger dissipates as I realize someone else is on my side.
He hands me forty dollars as he scoops me up,
a princess in his arms.
Let’s go fix your creek, love.
I’m not alone in my creek this time-
I feel warm and fuzzy.
Maybe it’s our creek, I think to myself.
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I wrote this about my love for my little piece of nature that I kept all to myself.