the water was here
two weeks ago.
nature sank the
reeds and weeds though,
with sloshed ice
and snow
pushed against
these riverbanks.
slow moving massive
bullish currents
like molasses
combed out bent
mud streaked grasses.
spring high tides
kept tidy lines of
woven waves.
i look upriver.
cool wind brings
shivers then freezing
breezes.
one hand to steady
as one finger traces
absently downward through
mineralized seasons.
as dust falls from
break walls
calcified wave lined
stains recall
a riverful of water
once stood
where i stand.
breathless, my guess is
that the ground
where my hand rests
only recently has
resettled.
the fresh borne
soil is restless
because these days
it rests less as
hikers and bikers cut
paths like wounds
across its fresh
face.
it knows that
something chaotic
stormed through this
tract
as a reminder
of what owns
this land.
former trees
broke and cracked
lay askew
on their backs
and skew
the soft river edges
with
bristled ledges.
i sit atop a 40 foot pine
and consider
for some time
how majestically
it lays
at my feet,
and weeps.
the week keeps
me in
place just like this.
in stasis.
in its
fist.
stuck on the bank
of
work fueled spaces
the constant grind
erases traces
of me.
and like that
mighty pine
all i really
want to do
is
lay down
and stay down.
trampled by elements
outside my control.
flattened
by a force that consumes
me whole.
and
unable to hear
a distant
warning bell toll
that the deluge
is rising.
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chris j cluff 