On my Sunday stop at a local woods I discovered that Collin’s Creek is dry. We’ve had so little rain since Spring that our water table is seriously diminished.
There was a creek where cool waters tumbled
dogs wet their feet and skidded on rocks,
birds fluffed and drank,
bugs buzzed and skittered.
Now all is quiet in harsh summer heat,
in endless days of merciless drought
Collin’s waters shrank,
to a hard creek bed.
‘Level 2 low water condition!’
conservation experts exclaim
as hoses gush and swimming pools fill,
folks unaware of a stream in the woods
barely a trickle, no longer there.
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