Rivers were fat
with snowmelt
in June when rain
fell hard coming over
the range. Beaver
headed to high ground,
dams swept north. Ducks
ran new rapids
avoiding eddy lines
fourteen inches high,
hungry to swallow branches
whole, spit them out shattered.
Fish, you just wonder
where they hide.
![](https://orphanpoems.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/img_8266-1.jpg?w=768)