“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”
George Bernard Shaw

Two rivers born
Of the same lake,
Though eons apart
Like journeys they make.

One is much older,
The first come to be,
The second one much younger,
Both bound for the sea.

Their beds aren't dissimilar,
Both paved with like rocks,
Their meandering at first common
With no rapids or blocks.

But storms would soon threaten
Dire harm and destruction,
Blockages would appear
Amid whirlpools of suction.

Others would build ditches,
Calling them levees in kind,
All the while spouting etudes
About caring, all lies!

But one day they'd meet
Far from their lake source,
And discover what they'd shared
With familiar discourse.

They'd survived many storms
Cold winters, prolonged drought,
They'd benefited many,
But for themselves, done without.

Though eons apart
The rivers stayed course,
Proving themselves worthy
In spite of their source.

Today they flow on
Meandering close, separately
Running deeper and true r
On their way to the sea.

To Morganna

c. 2024