Sprite by M. Marinda

Down in the spring
in shadowy deeps
lies, no creature, no man
but something that keeps
Slow as the trickles
fast as the streams
the salmon it tickles
gives it its dreams

The sprite of the water
is ghost nor is spirit
If you listen and wait
you might sometime hear it
Its song is so clear
as it skips over pebbles
its voice you will fear
as a waterfall trebles