Below the Dam

The river runs down slowly
through a narrow muddy channel,
falling off ten feet
through nothing but air
before shattering on a rock.

We come, sometimes,
to watch the sunlight
dance on the black mud walls,
to touch the roots of a chinkapin oak,
spreading and winding
down deep in the earth,
and to rest
with the stones
and the shadows.



Hear it:


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