...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

7. Good Job, Path

The tide rose and rose.
Trash on the currents swayed.

I always see cars in schools
chase down narrow channels, 

moving like trash in circles.
I saw no fish in the water today. 

Wind applied its pressure, concealing
by texture the small wigglers.

When it’s calm and clear they flash
a silver premise taken up

by tern, by pelican.
Good job, wind. Good job, tide, 

smoothing sand so patiently:
Because of you we understand

the parable of the footprints.
Cars, my feelings for you are mixed.

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