June 1 today, summer on the front. Too auspicious? We bring no guns. Water, our water, at risk. They'll take a few losses--us, and say it was worth it.
Not to get alarmed. Permits pending, it hasn't happened yet, everywhere. Slumped houses in the stream, logjams. No fish to run, nowhere. A season in the song of fate: the human century, the one to come.
Do we dream this unwanted reality? It's given to us, to choose. We all say, dream the dream somewhere else.
A center of power. Forest lore, the ancient ones. When this secret is found, it brings the river to the surface, and sends our bodies away.
Then, we awake, to do what we can do.
© Nowick Gray