It always looks serene, a
Lazy, cool expanse of graceful blue,
Content to lull in sleep while
Strolling in and out of deepened hue.
A downpour in Chelan will
Start accumulation of a spate,
While gathering flows meet,
Surging as the river shores await.
The farmland and town folk,
Unaware of torrents that draw near,
Still trust the sleeping giant
Blind to nature in this tamed frontier.
Broken from its gentle, drifting flow,
Now fifteen miles of flood, all
Hope of saving crops lost long ago.
When waters recede, and
Widespread work repairs the soaked terrain,
The farmers are compelled to
Build again so family ties remain.
And so the giant sleeps, with
Sense of local urgency elapsed,
Content with being dormant,
Waiting for the flood plane's next collapse.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.