Water won’t allow a lake for long
before the river
breathes again.
Ruins watch us, weathered, by now
only bones: no roof, no
catch-basin barrel, just windows
and doorways to a gulf below.
But it still rains on both the good
and the gone-to-seed
as one true equity.
L. Ward Abel’s poems have appeared in hundreds of journals, he writes music, and he is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), A Jerusalem of Ponds (erbacce-Press, 2016), and The Width of Here (Silver Bow, 2021). Abel resides in rural Georgia.