In the garden

the levels of the water

that discount one another

through the movement of the tides

 

the shape of the same water

drawn from the size of the light

washed up on a beachless moon

 

the self-same water weighted

with a saline interlude

then dismissed by the cycle

 

yet not the fresh imbibement

that waters, lifts the flower

that grows, repeats the flower

 

are some of those entrenched streams

feeding one river, frozen

unto itself, over all

 

February 2020

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s