Here, where the river’s muddy
and the creeks rise annually
claiming more land

only to withdraw
and leave us thirsty
when the flow goes dry

there’s no new way
to view this desolation
except in May

when wildflowers
hold a convention
and spring’s fawns

pretending to be members
crash the breakfast buffet
camouflaged

with white spots
that make them look
like one of the bunch.

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