The Bench
There is a bench next to a stream,
but that stream is no longer.
The bench still makes passersby pause,
but now marks the missing.
The absence is what we listen to.
The water may return on occasion,
but the bench foretells what we already know: eventually, it won’t come back.
The plants still exist.
The trees still sprout leaves.
There are creatures that enjoy the dry undersides of the rocks.
They are relieved to keep their houses even during snowmelt.
The bench was a there, now it is a not-there.
It is not always the tragedy it may seem; it is a succession.
Inspired by events at Wasatch Mountain State Park, Midway, Utah, on the homelands of the Goshute, Ute, Paiute, and Shoshone peoples.