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.