What is worth noticing, my friend,
are the waves that stand out,
that trip up against the others.

The regularity of current,
old moon pulling, hypnotizes.
But don't let it loll you into missing
all those unique waves
that find a way to stand out,
against all expectations.

Sometimes, they are pushed 
by an unexpected wall or reef.
Sometimes, they play with a mermaid's tail.
And sometimes, they are just bored
and feel a need to shake things up.

No matter. Enjoy the rhythm 
if you will. Sing with it. Dance, even.
But keep a sharp eye out, too,
for those breaks of independence
and mystical creatures
whose only purpose in the sea
is to bring you to wonder.

We always expected 
that in two short weeks 
a whole year could unwind 

so that we were left surprised
and still tell stories
of when on the sailboat 

your voice broke furious
through the wind
as we stumbled over the bow,

and we all sat then at dinner
frightened, exhausted 
trying to find our humor.

Miniature umbrella shadows face,
you shivered on the field
some time in the fuzzy past
 
and are shuffled together now 
in a pile on my desk,
Rhyme, reason vanished,

and irrelevant, since one moment later 
you may have been transformed 
by lightening or thunder or life.

Yet we drag around our past
in an every-lengthening caboose, 
forever needling through
our hopes for today.

What is the method for unleashing the old cars,
for choosing instead 
to watch each moment flicker past

unrelated, with no repeated story 
holding me down?
Let you go your way
and I mine?

How to amble across
wide swaths of earth
with an ever-willing thrill,

how to spew spores of joy
every time someone tried to uproot you,

how to settle into a problem
long after everyone else has walked away,

how to blossom best on rainy days,

how to feast on tiny bits 
no one else could endure,

how to survive in air, sea, 
mountain, tundra,

how to master each pretension,
meant to hem you in.

six cats
eight hands
so we measure

twelve feet
the length of our lives
and all things we collect