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Down By the River
let the icy waters pour wet my toes in still soft sand ~ ~ when the Little Ark river flowed it was as deep as it was wide catfish jumping all night long light south breeze on the water cottonwood trees now far from the river seem to sag in a different wind there are no long grasses whispering no turtles respond to your tapping. no big toads burping all night long not a cricket or a cicada makes a sound in the wood there is no deer not even an owl or a hawk whistles ~ ~ we must conserve the water in the pipes now use the grey water over and go green find ways to do things anew life without a river.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2012-09-04 11:21:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, it is a saddening poem. I will hold my tongue on the –green- but still sing the dirge with you concerning what was and is. To lose what can be viewed as pristine, even to the progress of water development is unfathomable. I forgive drought and hurricane, but the realization of immature thought always makes me shy away. A full blood conservationist, but that also means more about life than also thing. Your description put me right there, listening and breathing- sleeping with nature and absorbing the cul-de-sac of a person’s integration with life and living. There can only be hope; and as I have intimated, I doubt seriously it lies in the –green- philosophy and money grab.
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