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Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #1542839
Once again the Red River is flooding.
Aches and pains, sore backs,
sand bags piled in stacks,
fifty feet or more high,
No time to quit or relax.

The water keeps creeping,
through cracks, river seeping.
Past the record flood level,
more bags we keep heaping.

Here in the Red River valley
we never really stop to tally
the total number of sandbags,
or the nameless saviors who rally.

Over in Fargo, the dike sags;
water in the school, hope flags,
and a volunteer's tired foot drags;
more patches tossed like bean bags.




http://www.reuters.com/article/newsOne/idUSTRE52P6KA20090329

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