By Donna Weems

Once small, now muscular and strong

Collins Run spills over wooded banks

Rushing past rocks and soil, dank

Loudly laughing as it hurries along

Dry gulley now an active streambed

Clear water seeps through grass and moss

From under logs and cracks in rocks

The whole mountainside is its watershed

Rolling rocks and bending trees

The valley echoes the full voice roar

Red Creek’s rising upon its shores

Winter’s thaw has set Red Creek free