it is the tidal, erosive nature
of our world that moves me now;
ebbs and flows too subtle for
an individual in the monthly sway
to notice are seen in every group,
and too often when paddling against
we blame our fellow oarsmen before
the current, set our expectations
to times when we were carried, and
miss that the brilliant just-so
is but a glint atop low hills of a
wind's walked waves. we prize self-
directedness, but only the leaping spray
can have that and only for some time:
gravity opposes the identity of a drop,
but for us as waves it is how we take the land