April 3, 2021 -- Rising Stream

               Rising Stream

 

Every day,

Just going along.

We deal with stuff,

Or we figure wrong,

And we sing our songs.

 

We go through our changes.

We remember our dreams,

And we turn the pages,

Or we blow off steam,

While life seems to flow like a stream.

 

Except now, the stream is rising,

And the height it reaches might be surprising,

And at a certain point there’ll be no disguising

That hell’s breaking loose and it’s time to get ready!

 

The rain keeps on falling,

And it’s going to flood.

Don’t know what’ll happen, but you got to keep steady:

Pile up the sand bags to keep out the mud,

And feel your love as it pumps in your blood.

April 3, 2021: The Bath by Jose-Maria de Heredia, "Adventures in World Lit.", page 766

 The Bath

As might a centaur, man and beast in one,
  Into the surf they plunge, naked and free;
  Powdered with golden mist, they seem to be
Athletes of bronze aglow beneath the sun.
The rustic rider and wild stallion
  Breathe in the briny odor thirstily,
  And as they meet the chill surge of the sea
Through flesh and mane delicious shivers run.
The wave swells, rushes, rises like a wall,
  Then breaks in foam.  The bathers shout and neigh
  And from the stallion's tail blue showers fly;
Mane streaming wild, he rears against the sky,
Then dark breasts cleave the billows as they fall
  Whipped into frothing cataracts of spray.