he rolls along his boundaries
angry and churning
foam spewing from his mouth
icey fingers sometimes reaching
over the edges there
winters wrath has taken its toll
leaving behind this dirty mass
shoving foward ever forward
to empty into nothingness
when will the season come to calm
this loved one into serenity
our favorite place to sit and ponder
upon his banks in spring
that we may come to love our river once
again.
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