Slow Magic - edit2

[Bunx]

Slow Magic


Monsoons return:
stream cuts stone,
sand chokes river mouth.
Dams silt up;
     fail, undercut.
Charred forest sprouts,
cicadas rise each seven years.
True magic's slow,
not sleight of hand, no mystery
but weight of history.

Stream cuts stone,
sand chokes river mouth,
cicadas rise each seven years.
Dams silt up;
     fail, undercut.
Charred forest sprouts,
monsoons return.
True magic's slow,
not sleight of hand but weight
of memory.

Love this poem! It reminds me of hiking in particular places in Montana over the last 12 years. I love the contrast between life and death, and the nature of change in the river / wilderness. As far as suggestions, I try and appeal to the more magical side for the poem, how the "chokes, and cuts" are apart of the magic as well! I feel like break in the cut narrative (which I love) could add some potential color to the poem if wanted!
Thanks for the solid read!