Fuck the atmospheric rivers
A neighbor called on New Years Eve
and asked if we were OK
We turned around from a road trip
There was a river running through our house
Baby bottles, old computer keyboards,
Pool table, sofas, appliances,
“Indian clothes” that we rarely wore
Now covered with dirt and useless
The kids say they miss the turf and tvs the most
We can get those back, I tell them
The cheap labor we hired to haul away the debris
Laugh and Joke among themselves
Its a good payday for them
Its all “Maya”, an illusion anyway
According to our spritual ancestors
But some are more capable of Zen, than others
Was this Nature’s way to get rid of our “stuff”?
Things we would never use and yet, never let go
The 150 yr oak tree in our yard still stands
A neighbor brings a pumkin pie
There is hope
There has to be
