Flood There's nothing unusual, about the sweet rain. It comes to the mountain, it comes to the plain. It all comes together, from tributaries small. Into mighty rivers, that perpetually fall. Replenishing life, and quenching its thirst. A cycle of living, that always comes first. The rivers rise, and the rivers fall. With periods of drought, and then, flood for all. The water is so inviting, All want to be near. But living close to water, can also bring fear. For the rain comes quickly in a mighty storm. If it rains too long, more than the norm. The dry creek may fill, in a frantic flash flood. Sweeping away everything, and leaving only filthy mud. Or the river may rise, overflowing its bank, taking everything before it, regardless of rank. For nature is mindless, of good or of evil. It continues its course, its playing field level. For those who learn, from high water's wrath, by building high above, from its destructive path. For those who did not heed, mother nature's nuances, destruction and death their reward, for taking those chances. |
My street flooding a block east of my house. After four hours of very heavy rain withcontinuous eMail Me 5/28/15 |