Flood

A difference in twelve hours, high then low
Making the landscape surreal, muddy brown
Unclean yet ripping and tearing away to make 
Some things new, while others miraculously
Survive in beauty with flowers intact, a new beginning 
For many things, changed landscape, dead trees
Washed away, forever changed by this short span
We never know of it's power until we are caught in 
The flow and all we can do is hang on and wait 
To be recreated, but not obliterated, just getting
Rid of dead wood and to keep on the journey