Fathers and Sons

Under watchful eyes they stand,

Poised upon a precipice,

Regarding the plunge ahead.

Quietly, they watch,

Sitting on, perhaps, a bench,

Nostalgic, proud, and yet, afraid.

Not too long ago, they stood,

Upon the lips of similar brinks,

Regarded then, as now,

By men in quiet contemplation.

Failing Dams

Propelled irresistibly 

Downstream, caught,

 An unstoppable flood.

Images flash,

Uprooted trees,

Lost in the maelstrom.

Swirling flotsam, jetsam,

Tattered bits 

shattered pieces

all once held dear.

Beloved people, 

Untethered from context

Favorite places,

Unstuck from foundations,

Cherish mementos,

Unshelved from order.

Rolling downstream,

Dooming all ahead,

More weight behind

This churning mass.

Driving inexorably

 toward quiet peace

in endless, silent seas.