Summer storms change this landscape, forcing the small river to flow where, normally, it would not go
And all we can do is watch
For water finds its way, never gentle in the aftermath of tempests like this; Instead, it rages like a lion sprung loose
And all we can do is worry
And wait for the calm, the days following deluge, to find what paths remain and which, disappeared, ghost trails of memory
And all we can do is wonder
For #ds106 Daily Create on Wendell Berry’s birthday