Spring Freshet

Dayle Olson

"Across the River" by Marie Wise, Watercolor on Paper

When the freshet came, everything
floated out the front door, headed north
toward town.
We watched from a ladder as our wooden bowls 
lined up like ducklings behind
a soup pot and sailed away.

The current swirled around father’s
bentwood rocker, coaxing it to 
join the spindle-back chairs in the yard.
Two barn cats in a crate bobbed below,
yowling as a surge of water pushed them
over the threshold and out of sight.

It took all three of us to hold mother
from going down after her sewing box.
She trembled in her wet, muddy skirt
shouting oaths at all of us.

Each waterlogged thing carried away
was something precious, 
but the worst for us children 
was the tin of sugar, 
as it took with it every last promise 
of sweetness.

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