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