The sloping banks with fragrant moisture reek,
     Frail bits of vine about the ground form lace.
The bridge, a languid cat, arches the creek;
The amber water flows in endless haste.

The sky, a sea, with stars like sail boats sleek,
     Reflections in the stream a pattern trace
     Of street lights, should the clouds but hide the face
Of stars.  Yet from the water sparks would peek.
The bridge, a languid cat, arches the creek;
The amber water flows in endless haste.

--Nora Coots.