the river grows
at lunch the friendly waiter explains
in a month from now
when the rains come
water will cover
all these rocks
we murmur in surprise
sit placidly on the same rocks
after our meal
retire to our room
and then the rain starts
slow at first
uneven pings that could be monkeys
then the usual short steady afternoon shower
then it changes, drives down in pounding lines
the whole scene a gray blur of
air displaced by water
shingles shoot past the open woven window
and the stream beside the lodge
becomes a chocolate surge
it pounds on like this all afternoon
until I wonder
what’s a cyclone like?
then I remember to check the river –
the rocks are gone, a month early
each one washed by
the galloping white waves studding
thick brown ropes of river
racing away from the rain
bringing the mountain down with it
Thanks to Cedar for helping to type this one up!
