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The Creek
I clear my mind through trees and greens of leaves.
The rush of water suffocates my thoughts.
My worries fly away, my mind believes.
The creek calls me to come along and cross.
Alone with nature I feel the most heard.
The bugs and squirrels respond with chirps and calls,
But winds will talk with air in which they whirred.
And rushing streams will talk with waterfalls.
Inside its walls of thick, tall trees I sit.
To wish my trek back home will never come.
But in this nuzzled corner that I fit
The warmth and joy this brings, I will succumb
This place will never fail to make me smile
And wash away my thoughts just for a while.
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I grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania next to a creek in the woods I used to go to when I wanted an escape. This Sonnet is about my experience spending time in this creek and how my mental state shifted while being in the midst of nature alone.