After the Storm

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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.
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