Living in the In-between

In these parts surrounded by water,
you learn that the sea can loosen 
its grip but always comes back.

But after months, years, aftermath
after aftermath, there are days like
today. When the air lightens like light

itself, then you can see how the heron 
stands on the bank, as if stitched to permanence. 
Water is trapped in mudflats, but there is also 

shimmer in shades of purple. This is the time 
before fruit ripens from flower, before 
the bruise of summer. In a hurt world, 

you try to understand these ongoing 
lessons in wonder. Rain, when it returns, 
remembers every surface it's ever met.