I awake,
dimly aware of its vast presence,
creeping silently through the salty creeks
beyond the black frizz of trees.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingle
but whether it is fear or thrill
is hard to tell.
In the dark,
the sheer weight of its...
Long after
the tide slipped silently into the night
the marsh is alive
with the language of water.
I listened in the darkness
to the trickle in the creeks
and the bubbles in the puddles
in the mud.
The water was all verb and adjective,
running,...