The tiny river in the gutter
Flows inexorably on
Crossing over two wide streets
In it’s determined journey to
The storm drain in the cul de sac.
Rocks impose no barrier;
The river simply flows around,
Creating little islands in the stream
That make the water ripple in the sun.
The small end of a cigarette
Becomes a tiny boat
I watch it as it sails along
On a journey to oblivion.
I follow to the storm drain grate
Where the falling water makes no sound,
As it slips quietly down the maw
To become part of some other flows.
Will it end up at the Waterworks
To be freshly cleaned and sanitized
And pumped back through those miles of pipes
To quench thirst at the kitchen sink
Or will it join the other storm drains
Making their winding pilgrimage
To join the nearby Colorado
River and begin the trip again.
ljm
A few of my neighbors water their lawns til it overflows into the gutter. I live on a gentle hillside and I walk the neighborhood every morning. Some times I pass just as it starts running down the street towards the big flood channel at the bottom of the street below mine. Following it gives me a very leisurely walk, not the cardio pace I usually employ. I love it.