LXXII: The Third of July

And so the creek, half brackish and half sweet,

who fought a constant war for which would flow,

who never in two decades deigned to meet

to solve their waters’ woeful undertow,

was waded by a portly pleasure-king

who thought to throw a handsome picnic date

upon the creek-side lawn, and so did bring

whatever salts and sugars so to sate

his belly, full of all too many sweets,

and so he poured some salt upon his meal,

and spilled into the creek beside his feet

and gave the brackish side just that much zeal.

So now, the weak of heart of yonder way

must die, for brackish water is to stay.