Floodwaters

Walking close to an edge,
the river was already cresting
at 22 feet above flood level

Being one eroded step away
from swift current, you
didn’t really give it thought

When one is young, death
isn’t an option, even when
surrounded by floating animal
corpses and barnyard debris

Our childhood immortality shined,
rising above all thoughts of loss

We had an early ice flow that year,
followed by torrential downpours

During those high-water marks,
a child went missing

Three days passed, and the fear
of the river laying claim took hold

Our fantasy world came to a close
when they found his body tangled
in pilings

This wasn’t Charles Kingsley’s young Tom,
the chimney sweep, who transformed into
a water baby after drowning in the river
to begin a new life, this was someone
we knew

We didn’t understand death, but part of us
died on that day

And the happy gnomes along with all
the fairies ran away