Rivulets of rain run through my toes,
bare and digging into the muddy ground.
I follow these murky tears down,
down to the creek dividing lawn from brambles,
down to where ten thousand tiny trickles
join a single stream. Dirt disperses and
individuals disappear into one, clear whole,
flowing downhill to the mounds
I piled with dad to trap ourselves a pond.
At the edge of our property the stream flows on,
down below the rotten boards and barbed wire
marking the end of my muddy little realm.
If I could I’d ride the stream
down to the sea and sail away with it
to find where water goes
when it rejoins itself.