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As if to atone for the last season’s river level
When docks, made to float, were sunken in silt
And cottages were closed in midsummer
Or left unopened
Lonely in the silence
This year the St. Lawrence flooded our small bridge in June
Making a miniature rapids for little ones to float twig boats
Now it is August and there are few signs of a diminished level
Rocky shoals still lurk just below the surface
Tricking the inexperienced boaters
Much like life
With wisdom grained and then forgotten.

ARW

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