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Word Count: 569
A creek is no place for shoes I think its unreasonable to ask such children to keep their shoes on in such a place My bare feet were always covered with calluses from walking down the rough pavement of Pine Street and around the corner past the tall oaks but not as far as the Lindsays squeaky old swing-set It was hard to see from the road and as far as I could tell nobody ever went there except for me Large pines nearby stood tall and erect looking down at the ripples and currents that nudged each other about playfully like children in the back seat of a car on a long drive Stones and pebbles lined the shallow bottom and allowed the water to glide in creative patterns over their smooth surfaces Larger moss covered rocks dotted the back and provided ideal spots for a child to sit around watch and wonderThe creek taught me things it was my mentor Once I discovered tadpoles in several of the many eddies and stagnant pools that lined the small rivulet A cupped hand and a cleaned-out mayonnaise jar aided me in clumsily scooped up some of the more slothful individuals With muddy hands and knees I set them on the kitchen table and watched them on a daily basis as they developed into tiny frogs I was fascinated by what was taking place before my eyes but new questions constantly puzzled me Dad was usually responsible for assuaging these curiosities He told me about different kinds of metamorphosis and how other creatures lived in the water that I couldnt see without a fancy magnifying glassBy the creek my mind was free to wonder I remember sitting on a mossy rock and watching birds I used to pretend I was one As my body lay still my imagination would take flight High above looking down on this stream from the pale blue heavens the wind whistled
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