our town lies in a mountain bowl past dark
common and small as dust and dream
but huge in life past what it seems
its few lights spark off river skin
the dam pond’s spillway lets its waters out
as upstream always they fall in
and slide under a steel truss bridge
the dam buoys’ stillness
under streetlights-like-drapes
across the river’s face
the river is the hue of grapes
our ridgeline falls
like the back of a snake
until it meets the downhill nudge
of liquid urge without grudge,
the two acquiesce
without hate
Jim Culleny
11/14/20
Blink 