A Better Man
Not by words he tells a story long,
Winding and cold from mountains beyond the pines,
But by sounds of pebbles and bubbles
Thrushing branches fallen in his wake
Through high season and dry, when he often disappears
Between gusts of wind and furious rains, when he roars
Always a tale, for those inclined to listen,
Without exaggeration nor once a lie,
The river is by far a better man than I.
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Copyright 2007, Tom Radzienda.
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Labels: Poetry from Argentina


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