After the road to the cabin washed 3 times, and the space between cars and cabin was ankle deep in water, we finally gave up, emptied the fridge and headed for town. While we were there in the high meadow, listening to torrential rain, or the rushing stream, (which we had never heard from the cabin before) playing cards, trying to enjoy the peace of the place, these thoughts filtered through my mind.
The Rain
This is the year of the Apocalypse
movies full of fire
aliens and bombs
survivalists, and mutants
But I began to think it would end differently
Rain fell, incessantly
relentlessly
pelting fiercely
Our high field swam beneath the waters
The roof sprang a small leak
The road washed a little,
and again
a little.
Corn stood short and drowned in the fields
Plants grew green
but failed to blossom.
How did Noah feel
Day after
Day after
Day
as the rain fell
the grass began to brown in the fields
tree roots drowned and leaves dropped
roofs leaked
paths washed away
pilings sagged
tempers shortened
As he hammered away,
then went looking
for wet
bedraggled
animals
Two by two
the last,
the first.
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