Rivers Edge Poem by Albert Ahearn

The swimming hole is deserted
Except for an occasional
Brief stop for indigenous birds
on their way to the other shore.
The Tarzan rope hangs from the tree
Swaying slightly in the mild breeze
Above the dark shallow river
Where not long ago children played
And their laughter resonated
Loudest after each took their turn
Swinging out over the water
Ending with a cannonball splash;
But now these sweet, wet river brats-
God love them, all gone back to school.