Flood Stage

The river found the second mark this morning The one they painted after the last time Brown water pushing branches like they owe it something And the current doesn't care that we're watching By noon it's past the third and no one's counting The playground swings are standing at attention Someone left a bicycle chained to the railing And the water's climbing it like a ladder The sound is what you don't expect Not rushing, not roaring Just this low continuous yes That fills the space where silence was The river isn't angry It's just larger than we planned for And somewhere underneath The park bench still has someone's initials