A River
It is a river in the middle of the landscape
not a famous river it has no university buildings
and it doesn't appear in ancient books.
In winters it froze up in spring it was deep to
cold to swim in, in summers for a short while
It was a place to go bathing, and then it became
too shallow, a yellowish dribble not fit for
anything but drinking water for sheep.
And that is the life we get what we deserve not
what we want, and no over-top lyrics is written
about it, just as well we can't have its banks
crowded by poets.