Rivers Flow to the Ocean
Rivers.
It flows downstream.
Very near the end of the line.
Every tributary feeds from the source,
Racing along, you can’t slow the course.
So close to the battle we can almost taste it.
Front the lower level there was a stirring.
Left of the dish we saw a signal
Our time had come and we left to mating.
With brilliant wings all marked with pigments,
They were green, yellow and brown
on back and the crown.
The courses that we flew,
heralded the war cries of the few and many,
everyone did their part.
One said they saw us on the radar.
Cause doppler had picked us up that day.
Everyone was happy when we smelled the salt
and felt the sand. We knew we were home.
Now, you know the rest of the story.
Hour twenty one, 5 am
Rivers Flow to the Ocean
(form Acrostic/Free Verse)
Charlie the Mayfly.
v.j.calone
Perhaps because I’ve spent most of my time in my lovely, small house and the vaccinated safety of my immediate city neighborhood, I imagined grand nature scapes here. You have touched upon senses over and again, too. In fact, I picked up more upon reading this the second and third time.
Very nice!
Congratulations on your first poetry marathon, too!
Thank you Jan- it sure was a challenge to write all of them in form and as acrostic poems on a central theme and tell the story of Charlie the Mayfly who lived in my garden fountain, lived and died over the 24 hour span of the marathon (not literally) …but you get my meaning- thank for reading and reaching out- I really appreciate it-
thank again- and all the best
vin