Dulling Our Black Edges

For years, the river and I,
its surface like chipped obsidian,
would ramble side by side
along its banks, carrying on
the kind of harbor-deep and
meaningful conversation
I, with my carbon-black hair
and moods, wished I could enjoy
with a human companion.
But when a fellow Homo sapiens
would join me (and river)
on one of our midday sojourns,
they’d seem as shallow as
the Hudson’s shoreline
tidal pools whenever
the Atlantic would steal
from me its fluvial profundity.

It drained me, as well,
sending me away from
the river and it from me,
Instead, I’d limp round
and round a small pond,
which, while framed in
arboreal beauty, sat like
a vapid coquette, basking
in any compliments sun
and sky would shower upon
her jejune mien. Its placid,
flaccid demeanor, bereft
of any downstream gravity,
not only reflected how life
dulled since sharing black edges
with the Hudson, but how much
I’d turned pond-like, round,
soft-sided and silver on top.

For Day 5 of what I’ve discovered is now GLOBAL Poetry Writing Month (GloPoWriMo) my poem-a-day offering melds prompts from Robert Lee Brewer and NaPoWriMo.net. The former, to use an element, and the latter to convey a personal connection with the natural world, including its landscape. Mission, (too quickly) accomplished.

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