Dirty putrid puddle,
you sit there, stagnant
ruffled by the breeze from the
WHOOSH
of the cars and trucks going by
Iridescent swirls of oil top your
undisturbed surface
gray-brown filth contaminates you,
wrappers and trash from
thousands of unidentified people
paper your bottom.
The cracked asphalt and cement
below you
create an alien landscape;
below your surface
the sewer drain
ironically plugged with caked
dirt and grime
creates deep craters and trenches
in the alien landscape.
Oh mini-wasteland,
you weren’t meant to be such,
consider well…
you were not meant to live your life
as a squalid pit!
The same water that feeds the
oceans, rivers and streams
The same water that gives life to
all the animals and plants
gave you life.
I feel for your sorry lot;
Poor little puddle,
bravely resisting.
wetting the uncaring feet,
the rubber soles
of the walkers,
splashing the tires of the cars,
trucks and bikes
that run you through.
And yet,
when the traffic light changes,
A thirsty city pigeon,
(so unlike the elegant
swans and laughing ducks
that float on your kin)
looks about himself twice
and gratefully lowers his
parched beak to your
surface
and finds nourishment;
enters your waters
and bathes, splashing about
And though your stench fills
the noses of the passer-bys
disturbing the senses
and your dirty waters
stain the filthy ground,
you exist
For a reason.
You care for the other
rag tag band of
neglected urban nature
You are yourself
for our faults
and our fallings
and our failings
and our mistreatment
of nature and of the world
You have no fault,
you cannot help your sorry state
It is us who made you as you are;
It is us and our wrongs
that are reflected in your filthy state
You remind us of how we are
and what we have done
you are unliked and ignored
for the simple fact that
we see ourselves in you
You remind us of our fault
the fault we would
most like to ignore
and for all this, I thank you
I respect you
and I love you
