Season of immolation guts & bones ribs seared to white sun-glare, heat-dash pebbles’ broken-tooth chatter underfoot, a rolled ferry carcass, & bridges that span simmering air. Water runs, they say to some finish line taking life with it. From rock to rock we mark the passing - rivers as graveyards - such fundamental deaths.
Written belatedly for Earthweal’s challenge. “Rivers, Gone”