Tumbling, truckling, the tickling stream passed clear over my wriggling toes.

Cold it was. And hard were the stones under my bones.

Waterling

Dappled shafts of sneaky sunlight snuck through the laughing leaves.

There I lay

Just born

Listening

Naked

Alone and wanting for nothing.

Breathing spray and smiling.

A wild thing.

The waterling.

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