Floating Bones

Bury me six feet

under the river

bed.  The deeper

the water the

better the rest.  

 

Riverboats and

barges pass over

head while catfish

and perch swim

around my watery

bed.

 

Drought and heat

will cause a new

crest. Still, I will be

like a buried toad with

no desire to unearth

myself from a winter

rest.

 

The flood waters will

rise and the current

grows strong.  My

resting place will soon

erode and I will be gone.

 

Six feet of silt and

sand will soon wash

away.  Down the

river my bones will

float, only to settle

in peace once again.