Crashing through the barriers
on a wet, and windy day.
Made for protection, of every living thing
Comes mud, and slime, and tree trunks
From the mountainous, rough terrains.
Increasing resemblance of tornadoes
Are rivers once tranquil.
Cascading growth are waterfalls, not
But rivers bursting, edges off
Nature, hath they fled.
Until we’re blessed with warmth, and sun
And all is done, and said.
So for now our rivers mountainous
Must they continuously crash, through
Concrete gates and over valleys green
© Sharon-Elizabeth Walker, 2012.