Poem-A-Day: Day 285

Silt Country

passing silt through a river reminds me of god’s country.
it’s dirty, yet strangely clean
and entirely unappetizing.
the silt passes by without even noticing me.
it’s for the best,
because it will move on
and gather in congregations at the river mouth,
tributaries with mucky steeples
lapping praises at the ocean.
passing silt spilling exalted rapture,
and glorious nothings on the sandy beaches.
and I, in my stupefied glory, ponder the passing of silt.