In the Gutter

Atop the ladder he stands
his perch precarious,
reaches into the gutter,
scoops out the fetid debris
soaking in warm water

only yesterday it seems
the leaves burst green
and full of life,
the water fell pure and clear

but the seasons take their toll
and what was vibrant
soon turns old,
and clogs the pathways
of release

sits and stews
spills over and seeps into avenues
it should not go,
undermines foundations
and brings the body down

he tries to maintain
his balance,
more uncertain every year
keep the channels open

the task seems never ending
the amounts ever increasing
sometimes,
he just feels like falling