The birds have all traded places.
The seagulls, bent kites
veering toward the hills,
are strangers. The sea is closer.
Robins sway wet
in mockingbird trees.
No one touches ground,
no one in the barefoot garden,
the riddled mirror dreaming
a forest of sunflowers.
In the dawn,
I hear the creek
boiling brown water.
Posted for Dverse Poets
Open Link Night #34
whew...having lived through a few floods...you really capture this well...nothing touches the ground for sure...and i hear it roar
ReplyDeleteReally really enjoyed this, Amy... the ending is riveting!
ReplyDeletewe had some floods over here as well in germany...and the lucky ones are the birds indeed...i like how you capture the sense of not having a place to be anymore..
ReplyDeleteRight now Australia is flooding in three states, some for the second time in less than a week... I have a friend whose house has been flooded four times in the space of a year becuase of a creek boiling brown water... so your poem today really hits home.
ReplyDeleteYeah been through floods as well, never fun. your descriptions of the consequences are strong, using the animals and nature as the characters, love the riddled mirror dreaming- such a great line. Very nicely done. Thanks
ReplyDeleteThese images ring true here in NY state, as well. Very artful portrayal. The title sets the tone for everything.
ReplyDeleteTouching and a pause to meditate on what we can and cannot control. well done.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Mark Butkus