Flood Pt 1. - The Acorn

You lift your head from wild and wicked sleep

Where seven-headed serpents hiss soliloquies

While picking snails from the river of the valley

Don’t see the storm clouds piling up so quietly

The rushing river rattlesnakes your legs

And baby boy’s got you drinking from the dead

As you lick your lips and paddle for the levee

The sinking banks are sifting through your teeth

As you float up, see the river skins the valley

And strips the sleeping sediment of memory

You lift your head from wild and wicked sleep

The withered river sputters at your feet

And all around the sound is slow and muddy

The sunlight scatters pennies through the leaves

As you wake up, see the river skins the valley

You’d love to wash this summer from your memory