7-16/2014

some  days all I have is the red-hearted
cedars to keep me company
they march out into the water
ahead of me as if  to shield
my eyes from the future's jagged chandeliers                 
and though sad
they do not tire of wet  feet
some days it is enough--            
         the way some mornings to lie               
         awake, wrecked on the beach of sleep                 
         is enough--
to move through them like an old 
canoe seeking out that sliver of 
daylight like the edge of a coin                
but some days
I grow impatient for you
even if you shall come of 
faraway and unpredictable surfaces
         of turquoise belongings                
         storm of lip and kelp of hair
the great water that the trees shiver and whisper of 
but cannot describe.