Mike Bayles Poet Narrative

The Stream is a River

fifth grade in Peoria
I stand alone 
on a quiet street
in front
of my grandmother’s
apartment building
where my mother
and I are staying
until the summer
and my young eyes
on a Sunday morning
watch
a stream of water 
near the curb
it is a river
I take snow
divert its flow
before it reaches
a drain
all is taken
to the Illinois River
just down the hill
where workers tend barges
as they have for ages
a quiet morning to savor
as the luminescent sun
glows through clouds
and winter reaches
toward spring
and the sky
o the sky
it is an ocean

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment