At low tide

What do we learn from the fragment? 

That the whole is unnecessary sometimes. That sometimes a part is enough; 

too much would be said if the whole were presented at once. 

We only glimpse a moment. This moment. This moment is enough.

The earth is curved; I see only so far into the horizon. And that is now. 


This morning, I walked out onto the rocks at low tide

sliding, the heaped ribbons of kelp under my feet. Tide pools,

damp places under the protection of weeds,

clusters of life appearing to hold collective breaths

waiting for the sea to return.

In the quiet lapping, I listened to the exhaling of the coast.

Brave snails continue their paths to the sea: they will not make it

before the waves reach out and pluck them.