This concludes the NaPoWriMo experiment.

Gentle sunlight
Spills dusty down
Across the mottled strand.
Beach combers
Lost by the river
Gingerly pick
Along the glistening mud.
I watch them pad
Barefoot,
The tide of the Thames
Nipping coldly at their heels,
Through migraine green
Glass, partitioned
From the outside.
From somewhere else
The over-powering hum
And barbarous clank
Of a printer comes
Hewlett-Packard beige
To bring me my prize
Of information broken
Down by month
By sector
Bisected
By and ugly grey streak,
Imperfections in the machine.
They find something
Out there on the shore
Of this inland sea
That is still a river,
Salty and dense.
Stooped to pick
Treasure from the black sand,
Held aloft
It is just a pebble
Its smooth darkness
Cut
By a sparkling grey streak
Imperfections in the world.
I fold in my hands the paper
And feel its smooth
Distant
Water-worn surface
Against my fingertips.