THE RIVER BED

Mud, caked and brown

Broken by the unending heat of the sun

Crusted upon itself with patterned cracks

Lying on a  bed of human consequence

Grass, withered and torn

Slender masts that once gently swayed

Scattered now like silent sentinels

The grass now dead and forlorn

Skeletons, discarded and bleached

Bones of an animal that worms forgot 

In the final moments of life’s struggle

Appeal to the heavens as they rot

Migration, the tread of a thousand feet

In search of moisture leaves signatures

Dotting the dried carcass of the lake

Exploited and ravaged with no respect

The river bed dry and dusty

With no voice within that parched throat

Pleads with Man to be left alone

As raindrops begin to fall