Muddy

The Little Spokane is slow and muddy now.
Bogged down with debris from melting snow,
it groans and pushes its shoulder
against the solid banks.
Spring is an effort.
You have to shake off so
many months of cold inertia.
Ice is easy.
It provides the perfect cover
for lies of omission.
Spring requires acts of contrition.
The Little Spokane has no choice but
to move.
But me, I want to build a dam,
then go to sleep.



This is my first poem for napowrimo, a program for National Poetry Month from readwritepoem. The challenge is a poem a day for the month of April!
readwritepoem.org