Late morning city view the cranes at angled rest everything now begins with that used to be that was and will be something new strange to know the work it takes to see the progress day by day but the act of creation is never not a surprise— even while mired in it.
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]
OPTIONAL POETRY 