Poem: The Swales of Central Park

The most recent Cape Charles Gazette carries a short bit of text meant to counter the evidence of malfeasance that the writer G. William Wastewater has exposed–most recently, the poor design and drainage problems that continue to plague the very expensive renovation of School Park (renamed Central Park). The town goes to great lengths to argue that the finger lakes, sometimes known as Lake Cape Charles are there by design. As Mr. Wastewater has pointed out, however, there are also things known as design flaws.

The Town’s response was so breathtaking in its lack of self-awareness, that it inspired the Mirror staff to pen the following awful poem in its honor:

In Central Park, where swales embrace,

Stormwater held with gentle grace.

Designed by laws, by acts decreed,

To safeguard the Bay, its creatures freed.

Beneath the clay, a hidden seam,

Where water slows, in silent dream.

In March’s rain, they swell and fill,

A testament to nature’s will.

Citizens and Town, hand in hand,

Plant life anew, a fertile strand.

Bald cypress and river birch,

Nature’s aid in cleansing search.

Yet concerns arise, whispers of doubt,

Mosquito’s haunt, a murky bout.

But fear not, for Public Works stand tall,

With Bti’s aid, they thwart the sprawl.

In every leaf, in every glen,

Lies the tale of stewardship’s ken.

Central Park swales, a beacon bright,

guiding us towards environmental right.

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Wayne Creed

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