I was driving down Colley Avenue today

Mid-March

The wind whipping away

Cold still, bitterly so

The dogwoods are starting to bloom

White popcorn on the limbs

A sure sign

Summer is coming soon

All of a sudden I hear a loud boom

There’s a large log lying in the street

I abandon my car and get to my feet

I hear a rushing noise but it’s not wind

There’s a river flooding the road

It’s rushing toward me

I jump onto the log and lay low

I hold on tight

The river sweeps me and the log away

Where we’re going, I don’t know

Some fish appear beneath me in the water

“Hang on, you’ll be alright.”

They tell me, “Just a little farther.”

The river is roaring

We turn the corner

The orange fish are still in tow

The rain starts pouring

A wave crashes over me and I become detached from the log

A multitude of fish gather and lift me up

I’m back on the log. It’s slippery

I look up and see

Now we’re in the bay

The fish tell me there’s no more land

They saved me by preserving a salmonwood tree

Pinkish gray with smooth bark

It fell into the water and became the spark

The fuel the people would need to survive

To rescue humans and keep them alive

The popcorn from the trees on Colley fell into the bay

Fed the fish and survivors from day to day

The humans gained momentum

They wanted more than slamonwood trees and popcorn leaves

They started spearing the fish

And using all the logs

They turned into hogs

Now there’s no Colley Avenue, popcorn, fish, trees, or bay

Just a world gone awry

Being stripped away