Waterville
The land around here looks like it belongs to the side of a lake,
it slopes downward gently, suggesting a meeting with water,
front-lawns surf on grass-rippling winds.
Water is forced uphill by a secret pumping station
on the far shore of the State freeway.
When it rains we consider this a near drowning,
backyard dinghy’s and row boats creak in the wet winds.
Our aboveground pools allow only space
for the whelping of baby seals, and we honor that.
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