Fog and Water
Fog slow-dances over the inlet
until water and air waltz together.
Too early to tell
if any birds are awake
besides, my ears are muffled in the wet air.
Grebes and Coots colonize this tributary,
gulls just visit.
I could row out to the ocean from here,
but the thick haze would eat my soul
and I would be caught between two worlds.
Leaning over the gunnels
a Sea Bass curiously nuzzles
my trawling fingers.
The languid coils of water,
the fish and this blanket of mist
are all that matter now;
later when I sit by the cabin porch
maybe I’ll wonder why
I didn’t head out to the coastal waves
at least as far as any swimmer might go,
but I know the answer:
keeping this ageing body safe,
that’s all that matters now.
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