low tide, down
where river meets ocean
oystercatcher song amber breath in,
slow, purple haze release.
low ebbs keep pulling us in
icy waters deceptively blue
receding, receding, receding.
instead of fighting, what if we just let
will we drown
or can we stay
rooted and still like soft strands of kelp
patient in our waiting for our tides to turn high again?
I thought the day was done
but one more piece / peace
of solid smooth poetry
will not let me go - not until it has found its own way
the eider ducks in their tuxedoes are calling
ah uuuh ah uuuh ah uuuh.
I used to call them wolf ducks
for their howling offshore when you were little
on another shore on another continent nearly twenty years
and so many low tides later, we lie side by side
soft sometimes -
amber and purple and calling to each other remembering
ah uuuh ah uuuh ah uuuh. and I love
how that still makes you smile.