A river flowed here once. Swift, some seasons
and some times more of a trickle – but yet
always it flowed. Birds came, with good reason
for it was full of fish. I’d see them get
one after another until they could
barely fly. Trees grew there too – mostly birch
with bark that would peel off – yielding a good
kindling for bonfires. And you need search
no further than that river in fall to
see the most beautiful oranges and reds
when the leaves changed colour. Each day was new:
from when we rose to when we found our beds
But dry seasons came (as dry seasons must)
Once there was a river. Now there is dust.
Sharing with dVerse Poets’ Pub for Open Link Night. It’s been a while since I’ve been there…time to go back!