Your name sounds like a gurgling brook. When I was a child I would rinse my feet in the brook that lived across the street from my home. In the Spring the water was cold and sometimes the brook ran high and dangerous from the snow melt from the north. That was when I wanted to be near the brook the most. If the brook had a soul I think I would know it by name. I’m not smart enough to know if a brook has a soul, so for now I’ll just consider it my friend.
-M. Taggart
mtaggartwriter 
I completely understand this. Having grown up in rural Alaska, with acres and acres and acres of wild raw land at my immediate disposal and playground. Just a few feet behind our house lived two streams trickling forth from the ground. Both with vastly different personalities though they themselves were only a few yards apart. Many times when our pipes froze we would trek down the embankment and fill up bottles of fresh clean clear water. It was (and still is) the most delicious water I’ve ever tasted. One of them was clear and had a sweet tinkling sound as it dropped over rocks and into pools, ever growing. The other had a slower, older, lower pitched mumbling voice as it worked under and over moss covered rocks. It smelled like mud and felt amazing on bare feet. They each had their voice and their stories and their magic. I wish every person could experience such purifying nature. So, yeah…. I totally understand.
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Beautiful!!
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