After the Storm


Rushing with wild abandon,
muddy brown water
crashes over hidden boulders –
Making crescent waves
reserved naturally for tidal bodies.

Over time and distance,
deposits of debris
create new unhidden boulders –
Skillfully adding nature to concrete

Among the remnants,
purple flowers nestle
precariously in fragile dirt (and litter) –
As they wait for the next
rush of untamed water (or wind)
to move them further downstream.


About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s