The Flood

Ragged clouds float across the windy sky
Tear through the town with ceaseless rain
Torrents washed down muddy plains
Filled a river three men high

Carving streets at a furious pace
Like a muddy serpent chasing prey
Both minds and river banks fray
Wondering if men or water will win the race

Anxious eyes gawk the seething flood
Fearful of rolling waters and churning mud
A proud town laid humbly low
By an angry river’s turbid flow

Two days after the flood has left
The only marks are on walls and grass
The silent calm on peaceful streets
Belie the rage-filled river beneath cozy homes


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