I grew up on a river
no longer does it flow
like so much else
where it’s gone
no one knows
I cut my teeth on a river
ran freely to the sea
blind men’s bluff
was once a game
I’m cynical can’t you see
I tossed my sorrows on the river
actually there are three
well there were
man used them up
nothing flows for free
I grew up on a river
no longer does it flow
like so much else
where it’s gone
nobody knows…
Photographs: Three Rivers when they flowed in California, Year three of a five year drought, Year four of the five year drought (yes there is still water but independent farmers (and dairymen) cant get it unless you are lining the pockets of …)
The prompt at Poet’s United Midweek Motif is Watershed Moments. We all have them what are yours?
penned in moon dust 