Dry

That river.
That languid river.
Doesn't flow.
Lurches in some spots.
Rages as storms overtake.
Dries as the days of the Sun
wake with the worms and robins.
When the waters of the river
dry
The riverbed cracks, fades.
Earthen scales
dawdling moon
And the ages recede
The river licks the Ocean
And dreams of lying upon
the arid notion of a naked expanse