Somewhere Between A-three and A-four

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There’s a beat to the river,
as it plays its own music
through the valley,
as it imparted its pulse to mine.
You must stand by her side
to appreciate the sound of the wind
turning her to glistening corduroy.
The wales angle to her sandy hems
of shoreline, where the ripple
and the slosh of this living thing
lie somewhere—in being and sound—
between the stream and the sea.
My world’s grown so small
since I left her side. Like a grebe,
I took one last breath, a dive
and, with a heave of wings,
watched myself shrink on her mirror face,
as we drew apart, our heartbeats
grown dissonant with the distance,
and I lost my way somewhere between
a-three and a-four.

Catch-up day for Poem-A-Day April. This is poem #23 and once again a sigh about no longer walking, as a poet would, with the Hudson at my side.

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4 thoughts on “Somewhere Between A-three and A-four

  1. Ah, how you connect so totally!! This write is so refreshing. It is said that great poetry permits each reader to perceive it in unique & own way. This one too permit this uniqueness. For me it relates to river called life…..& I enjoy it beyond its initial read. Wonderful, Joe & thanks for this gift _/|\_

  2. Pingback: Suggestion Saturday: April 30, 2016 | On The Other Hand

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