Soft Sometimes

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
and now

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.

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