River’s Rite

The river is flowing fast.
Over cast of rain,
And snow have made it,
The animals can’t cross.
Unless they want to,
The trees have over grown,
You can’t see the sky.
No clouds or stars.
How sad.
The sun’s rays,
Fight to touch the,
Only get’s little through.
A baby deer,
Silently cries,
As it stares where,
Its mother last stood.
Before the dam broke,
He still had his mother.
Blast these beavers,
For not making a safer home.
The flyers watch down,
To see many meals,
Wash to shore.
They must soar down,
Before a land walker,
Takes them.
Oh, how sweet the,
Raw meat of the half,
Deer must taste.
Chicken is no where,
Close to it.
The water is gushing,
Fast and Faster.
The animals run.
They know they could,
Be next.
Small rodents,
Could be the first to,
Then the deer,
And Bears.
Next the Owls.
May they say their,
Last “who”.
Reptiles could make it.
No buts if they do,
Or not.
Trees are next.
The sun will finally,
Get its chance.
But it’s too late,
To dry the water.
With nothing to,
Stop it.
Who will be next?
Humans should have,
Gone a long time,
So their filth,
Could never be seen,