Poetry Pizzazz: The River Crests

The river crests after the danger has receded

from my house on the hill, overlooking the

weeping in among the trees, the once-solid

valley all mushy and smelly now. I saw the

whole thing happen, refusing television

images for those outside my picture window.

I could not be bothered with the world’s

trivia when my story loomed in large view.

I even saw the family in the canoe laden with

photograph albums and birdcages. I may have

even heard the bird singing in the watery chaos.

I await the return of my own dove with the olive branch.

I cannot leave this picture window to tend to the backyard.

The wisteria grow like weeds,

twining in around my window sill, crawling in

my kitchen like a snake. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t

eaten for days. Nothing even smells good

around here, putrid, gaseous odors filling every

pore of my body.

There is an element of just revenge. It was right

at the moment that I had come into some wisdom.

It had been like cracking a code, knowledge that

had been their prior to its discovery. Sort of like

how a magician makes you believe the rabbit

was never there in the first place.

In discovery there is loss, as all good explorers know.

There may come a point where all knowledge is

overturned, like rocks. Where will we be then? The

watery chaos spreads wider.

I see it returning now, just now! It has found the branch,

tucked in between its beak. It is just as the old story

is told, flown into my ark, the harbinger for future stories!

What celebrating there will be. I will call down to the

valley to announce the truce of the gods. I will hail

the family in the canoe, the singing bird. We shall hold

a party here, on dry land. We shall all turn merry

once again, in time.

Poetry Pizzazz