We have rivulets everywhere in our area. Switzerland has no sea, no ocean, but we have lakes and to get a lake you must have water running through it. It is quite easy really. It snows in the mountains during the winter and in Spring the ice and snow melts and so it comes trickling down into the valleys.
One of the main places where our local snow arrives it the local cemetery. We have rivulets everywhere and so we have bridges in various places to get over the rivulets. Luckily the main route to the burial grounds does not have a river running through it, as it would be difficult to get coffins where they should be.
Is this all I can write today. Telling everyone about the topography of our local cemetery. It seems so. Of course I could write a poem
Oh rivulet oh rivulet how narrow your shape must be
you are small and very wet, you were hidden, I did not see
I was walking amongst the graves and my steps were very set
And then I put my foot in it and my shoes were very wet
If you were a river, I could sit and watch you flow
My feet would be too far away and water would not touch my toe
But you are tiny and hidden and play your devious tricks
I stumble on a stone and fall and your water gives me licks
There is a moral to this tale, avoid the little streams
And hope one day there will be no snow to feed your watery dreams
This poem is oh so romantic and relates my feelings well
Tells of soft water trickles everywhere, so rivulet
go to hell ring a bell.