Who Knew
A pair of brown grey
cormorants sit bobbing on
perky swells
Then ploink they disappear to
probe
The Hudson's murky hell.
Down in Dante's numbered
rings
They swim blinded by pollution
In the shadow of towering
testaments
To technological evolution.
I could not imagine there being
life
In a river so deathly still
Til up they popped with puffed
up throats
To swallow a tasty kill.
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