The creek

From beneath a boulder's womb is born a spring, clean bubbling life nature did bring
Flowing forth it touched hard ground, making a gurgling sound, in its cradle a growing pool did abound
As it grew it crawled now a stream, learning to run as a creek with a dream
Mud and dirt it took down hill to spill murky waters into a pond to fill
From a spillway its waters flowed, joined with discharge from a nearby commode
Passing society with a variety of factories, it became a river of notoriety
Not for beauty but for smell, even the thirsty it did repel
In its journey to the sea it had turned dirty