Saturday, April 4, 2015

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.


Cheryl Goveia said...

Beautifully disturbing and so true. The water demands respect.

Susan said...

Ah, lovely, and so true! Each day on our bay is a surprise, sometimes magic, other times miracle.