Low tide blends with the clouds,
difficult to decipher land from sea from sky.
Waves make great strides to define the shore,
sandpipers scramble along an absent edge.
The surf recedes, muffled by the wind.
And you are dizzy
with the
pull.
Uncertain
of how
to spin
without
a focal point,
of how
to walk,
without
holding
your
breath.
~ Megan M. Codera
Flooded Woods 