When It Feels Like the Planet Is Trying To Get Rid Of Us

Dammed

How tranquil the circuitous creek,
Coursing through the cul de sac backyards,
Fondly considered by former kids,
Who collected its dank polliwogs,
But in the depths of its long-held springs,
An aggrieved hatred crawls through the mud,
Despised the arrogant settlers,
Believing they could conquer a swamp.