Another walk-inspired poem. We Floridians have to enjoy the mild winter weather while we can. It is but one of the many things we can’t control.
The river is a living thing.
She vibrates, quivers. Shimmering,
She ferries ripples here and there,
Her stretch relaxing everywhere.
A muddy green, a viscous brown,
She cages diamonds in her crown
And robes herself transparently,
Disquising depths that none can see.
The queen of all, her winding arms
Attract admirers to her charms.
She wraps each borough with her thighs
And rises when the tide is high.
No noble house, historic street,
Her liquid pride derides. Compete?
No feat of Man can bend or sway
Her will. She always gets her way.
We bridge her, dam her, pave above–
But are these not all acts of love?
We marvel still, from buildings tall:
This puddle will outlast us all.
Copyright 2023 Andrea LeDew