LOST RAINBOWS

I still visit here once in a while
usually in the depth of summer heat
when I feel as if I've earned a treat
and need a good reason to smile.

So I go down this narrow winding way
and cross this familiar narrow steel truss bridge
then ride about a half mile along the ridge
where white pines and hemlocks sway.

Then park where road shoulder grows wide
and the river races down below
where boulders foam and mosses grow
and cliffs brood high on the far side.

A drive descends down to the river
so I disembark and limp on down
to a spot below an old mill town
where long gone mists once made me shiver.

For well over a hundred years
a stone dam harnessed the river's flow,
lit the town and made the mill's lights glow
while propelling its shuttles and gears.

But now the dam has been torn down.
No more rainbows in the mist,
no more chill where air and water kissed.
Their absence brings a fleeting frown.

Now the river sprints with its old fevor
white water rapids boil as in the past.
Perhaps the dam was doomed to never last.
Nothing built by man will last for ever.