Sherry Chandler » Charles M. Whitt
Charles M. Whitt
Here’s Charlie’s poem that he left in the comments. I thought it maybe ought to get more air, being’s it’s relevant to our current weather situation and also, perhaps, to our great Indian Rock controversy.
FLOOD STAGE
Stealthily, the river slips
Among the barren willow tips,
And bends them with the current’s swirl
At every ripple, roll, and curl.
Through apprehensive, April eyes
I stop to watch the steady rise,
And see the lines that separate
A liquid earth from solid state.
The river comes as if designed
To seek the treasures left behind
Another year in early spring
When warm rain sent her pummeling.
Legends tell of nature’s schemes
Bizarre as any midnight dreams
That what the river leaves on high
She will return for, by and by.
— Charles M. Whitt
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