Shallow Creek To Nowhere
In flood the creek is still a walk over.
A limp washing of the land,
a hesitant flow, never meant to be a tributary,
or delta of anything at all.
The opaque water slides through low,
then after a few miles, seeps into a
wallow of bottomland.
It recently has been given a name,
a new housing development
built beside its muddy banks
is called, ‘Silver Water Creek’.
I think of my bookshelf,
Mark Twain’s, ‘Life on the Mississippi’,
then a trip here being taken to nowhere,
my own disappearing.
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