Spring Run Off
The first slow drips become steadier
as the sun beats down
on the ice dams
on the roof.
I remember the streams of spring run off
trickling down the road
on the way to the bus stop.
We would stop and build dams
made of the sand
that had been spread on the icy roads
during the winter.
In school, I would learn about
Smetana’s Moldau
a symphonic poem
starting from two small springs
not much different from the spring runoff
making its way down the road
towards the bus stop.
Later, as the weather got warmer
we would canoe down the Battenkill
swollen from the spring run off
before it slowed back down
to an indolent summer river
passing New England farmland.