City River: Free-Verse
By Armando Ortiz
All the rain of a wet season,
wouldn’t clean this river.
The egret stands atop a grocery cart,
like a homicide detective wondering,
when the streets will be cleared of its filth.
A billion summer tsunamis,
could not purify the water.
The egret contemplates its murky reflection,
like a mysterious figure wearing a peacoat,
the school of fish looks suspect from the outside.
Melting snow from the Tujunga mountains,
is unable to change the course of the city.
The egret lazily raises a foot,
rusty flakes falling into the current,
it watches a rainbow of plastics float bye.
A never ending mega drought,
wouldn't stop this arroyo from resurrecting.
The egret slowly dips its claws in the stream,
ancient dancer lifting its gray hakana,
despite all the distraction the cycle persists.
Rush hour traffic and midnight flows,
can’t silence the trickling sounds of water.
The egret reenacts its movements,
shoots its beak through the waters edge,
a small frog is trapped as the sky darkens.
Suburban medication and the urban chaos,
couldn’t stop the river reaching its destination.
The egret glides through the crying willows,
rises up the stream that’s eternally etched,
follows the contours that lead to the ocean of time.
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