Down the Bank

In the cold, dim dark below me, just beyond the trees
With their blackened, spindly limbs aquivering in the gentle breeze
Past the brown streaked, brittle, stoic grasses stubborn, sullen cling
Hoping for a teeny wink, a hint, a glint of coming Spring
Down the rocky, muddy bank past where the lonely rabbit hides
Trying just to take a nippy nap before the dawn decides
Lies my little tookling brook amoving long its sturdy path
Never wanders nary nought, and nigh a day will come to pass
Where it started, till it's end, as people pass and pass away
Still my little brook will tumble on upon its merry way