The Creek Nearby

I sat with my son
by the creek this evening,
the sun a shadow
beyond the leaves,
and I wondered
why the water
was shallower than
I remembered it was
in winter.
I then concluded that
the plants and trees
are borrowing its
waters until
Autumn’s release.
And I thought of
my own waters –
redirected, absorbed,
by the ceaseless competition
of responsibilities
whose roots
guarantee neither
restoration nor replenishment.
Is my life now deeper
for that shallowness?
Something new must
grow from emptiness
in time;
or else accept
freely what the waters
widow for their
chance to run.

Poem by Michael Hilton

Michael Hilton is a playwright, poet, and short story writer. His plays have been produced in the United States and Europe and he has had monologues published in several anthologies. He has won the Governor’s Award for Best Play in the State of New Jersey for two consecutive years as well as numerous other awards and honors. He studied playwriting at Fordham University and received a Master of Arts from Tübingen University. He lives in Bavaria, Germany where he teaches English at the Catholic University of Eichstätt-Ingolstadt.