I sit beside a babbling brook and feed the conversation...
While listening to its sly reply and dwell in rumination.

The consonants o'er river rocks, with vowels begin to jumble...
And soon the metaphorical...with similes will tumble.

My mind begins to understand...articulate, the water.
I think my meds are kicking in...or maybe it's just hotter.

The brook is babbling...so am I...and so, the Muse...I leave...
And homeward now, my creaking bones...as up the bank, I weave.