This River

The river gorges itself
Separating two states
Deeply and
Without, regret.
Through the mist
One can barely
Sense the other.

One side dry
Dull and flat
The other
A little less so
The wheat, only ankle high

The oldest Grandmother
Cried out “…………
Don’t be lulled ……………..
It’s Mean, nasty and quick
It’ll take ya ……………..….
Like a lizard licks a fly……...
It’s serpentine ……………...”

If the river was so dangerous
Why did we live at its edge
To watch our lives float by

Across the bend
And down stream
The oldest homes rotted by time
And too little paint
The young ones died from TB 

Children use to play
A home run away
One of them broke their neck
Diving into their dreams.

The river runs north
Long before TB, 
Baseball and the wading pool