Thoughts of a Country Pond

I miss em lil ones what would come down from dem hills to play boats. Wars wud break out 'tween da boats and dem battle cries wud bounce offin' dem hills and echo back till sunset. Upin' yonder trees dem boys wud swing and drop in. It waked up everyone an even the frogs wud scatter.

Offin', dem rotten boys wud hide in dem tres and spy on da girls what would come down awashin' demselves. I miss how dem girls would sing. I miss da way dem girls would tiptoe in - kept everthin' quiet like they belonged. I member when dat curly headed one went in and right to the bottem. Wat a fuss all her kin made. Then thais all come down asingin' as one. Dey burrowed a hole under dat willow tree and dropped dat curly haired one in, and she don't come out - never.

Dat willow been here ever since, thru every storm an thru even da big fire what swept down here from dem hills all dose years ago. Its plum amazing dat tree is still ther. It must be a force of will dat da tree just wont give up on shelterin' dat youngin below. Maybies she'll be acomin out someday to tiptoe in an sing to me. Iffin she does, dem boys mite be acomin' back too.