The street where we live
was once a boggy lake near
a creek which now is only
name. Mill Creek with no clatter
or grain. But under asphalt
and lawn beneath our feet, slosh
and gurgle of water, and
our basements are never dry.
7 thoughts on "The street where we live"
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I’m so intrigued by this idea of worlds we’ll never truly know. We’re water poem twins today! <3
Ah, but your poem is so rich! These little 7×7’s is all I seem to have time for!
Nice, Pauletta! As someone said, the past hasn’t even passed.
I love the image of the past the words “no clatter or grain” give me.
So intriguing to wonder about the histories that passed in our homes before us–and, in your case, that which lies below.
Such a wonderful slice of history! How much of our lives are spent walking over the past we know nothing about?
I always wonder what’s hidden beneath the surface