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How its surface hides
the undulation on its bottom;
how its edges spill over
and are spilled over into.
How as it is fed by another,
the water tumbles, turns
over broken concrete slabs;
how herons perch there, oblivious.
How when the tunnel overflows
with rain, it releases a stench
into the summer breeze
that makes you turn away.
How the beaver plays under graffiti
refreshed the night before.
How my son found a raft
in a strip of woods on the bank;
how he hid there with his friends,
stoking rebellion in the wild.
I love how each stanza is a complete little meditation, all building together for the bigger picture, and finishing with a flourish! p.s. Love the new page look.
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Thank you! It is always a surprise what happens in our river. 🙂
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Indeed.
A river’s character can draw us at any moment, yet it’s character changes with each moment, seeping into our own character.
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