New Orleans

My face is like your silt and clay
Deposits from the earth of yesterday.
As periodic torrents rage and calm,
I think of the mud we’re both founded on.

Black oak branches wet with rain,
I will climb to you again.
The time for us to sink will come and go,
But when this tide is over we will grow.

My home has sighed, and truth I see.
Hello, tomorrow you may not know me.
Change is forever present tense.
My address is beautiful impermanence.