Water is a blessing
Until it pools, instead of flowing,
Blessing of company after the third day
Blessing of inexhaustible leftovers
Blessing of unread books
Blessing of clothes that do not fit.
French drains divert excessive blessings
Recruiting gravity to unsoak puddles
From high ground,
Showing them the promised wetland
Where a licensed swamp replaces
A misbegotten one.
The arc of drainage is long
But it bends toward low ground
The bubble of tilt-age points the stream
downward,
Obeying Lord Gravity
Bowing backwards to
A lower, but more fitting destiny.
.
Very droll and funny. Thanks for the humor. Loved the “licensed swamp” and “Lord Gravity.” We have all been victimized by this issue in our lumpy Missouri property!!
Thanks for very specific appreciations of my poem.