Between two trees string Lie back and swing Careful not to flop Or to the ground you'll drop

I am not a fish but I swim with the current, I tear through and I'm a word for hurried

I arrive in whispers, pink and light, Dressing branches in colors bright. I stay a moment, then drift away, Like gentle snow on a warmer day.

A bear or a cockroach We are all but the same Yet we use it for insults For beasts yet untamed If I call you by this It feels rude and uncouth But we cannot change nature What we are is the truth

I can be clear or murky Calm or stormy I am wet but can dry up There are four great of me in the upper United States but I am singular