The Source and Now the Final

‘Let’s go to the Allondon’s source!’ they cried and I

expect a trickle or gentle gush, a scene of birth.

Not a waterfall pummelling the mossy rocks then

pausing in a pool to gather breath before

thundering in confidence across pastures, between trees.

It’s March and snows are melting, you tell me that

in summer it slows to suppuration.

So I wonder what you think of the slowing of my seasons

and stumble in my gait.

Photo from ain-tourism.com
Photo from ain-tourism.com

The river Allondon is unusual: it springs out of the ground as a waterfall, so is already a considerable stream as it rustles and hustles and meanders its way through the Pays de Gex to join the Rhone. I am linking this poem to the wonderfully diverse offerings on display at Open Link Night for dVerse Poets.

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