Dry River Bed

My rocky bed is empty
With boulders parched and dry
Lichen even cling to them
And grasses, in silt grow high
Not a drop of water glistens
No merry note upon the air
No cooling silver slides and crashes
No gentle mist swirling there
The timid birch are thirsty
The deer don’t pause to drink
Because man changed my water way
To make a Hydro Dam,
I think!