August 8

Cool rain waning moon
a mud-drab marsh bird

troubles the water
the reeds don’t stir

a mineral air
rises from the silt

soil the littoral
so literal I plant

my feet in earth
that is also part

water and returning
know a return

is also always
a departure

[I’m back! Was defending a thesis in a completely non-poetry-related field, am now enjoying life as a Master of Science]