Like Trees

Napowrimo Day Three. In bed at 11:30. Shit! No poem today!  Half hour later, this.

Like Trees

the water changes daily–

gray, green, blue, white,

black, glassy, ripples, rollers,

whitecaps, mountains. Fish

jump everywhere you look one day.

The next is blank, featureless ocean.

I remember walking a park on the hill

in Louisville after a tornado:  hardwoods

snapped like children’s toys, six-ton Pick Up

Stix, strewn on top of one another. Hours

before, we walked the trail for the hundredth,

two-hundredth time. After the storm, we got

lost in the jumble. the water is like that. easy
to lose yourself. never the same. never anchored.