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After a Heavy Rainfall
Banks did not burst,
just a dribbling bladder of river
leaked into our back yards.
It drooled over damp roots,
seeped into groundhog holes,
into ditches, where winter debris
had already washed-up.
The water rose in some places,
to at least half an inch,
we made phone calls to each other,
imaginations spilling over,
into memories of past inundations.
Some put on rubber boots,
and armed with brooms,
swept the ripples away.
Biblical deluges were discussed,
will the garden ornaments rust?
We watched sparrows bathing.
No geese or ducks landed.
Nothing sailed off over the fields.
A sulky cat was retrieved,
from a shallow puddle.
The mail was cataclysmically late.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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