This dry arroyo was a little brook
where lovely golden trout would come to spawn
until another toilet flushing took
the last drop left by lush suburban lawns.

This reservoir is nearly empty now.
Once built to flood a habitat for power,
the turbines barely turn. I wonder how
we thought another thousand farms could flower.

This well was once artisian, spouting clear,
but now a deeper pipe is driven down
to chase the aquifer receding here
and send the drinking water into town.

This water tap once ran as clear as glass,
but now is murky with a musty smell
since factories made people “lower class”
by making neighborhoods resemble Hell.

This forest once had half a million trees
until they parched in summer’s baking heat
and some spark set a raging fire free —
now only sylvan memories are sweet.

This little stream has now become a river,
swollen with the deluge — in a day
the rain of half a normal year delivered —
and all the work of humans swept away.

12 March 2023