Modest Watershed Poem by David Floren

Modest watershed, these days
People haven’t yet begun
Foraging for drink.

Think yourself self-storage?
Think yourself mere curtilage
Where cobwebs sag abandoned?

Where stand your thin walls,
Second fiddle to home’s strength,
Yet fit to repel the elements?

Your humble mantle shades,
No little feat, amazing contents.
Don’t you know?

Second fiddle to hope’s strength,
Green spinnerets brew a root-maze
Where snow-capped majesty reigns.

To capture the sea on granite webs,
Where air stretches thin as shed wood,
Is a good, arachnid way

To save tomorrow’s today.

[5/18/05 Santa Rosa, CA (rev.1 2/6/08 Livermore, CA) ]