This morning
in my bad mood
the lofting scent of fennel
forced my mouth
into a smile

cattails wobbling
with their large hotdog tops
waving hello at me
or at least
I wanted to think so

Yellow dock seed heads
stood as bronze torches
erect and high

the birds congregating
and I am not only a witness
but a player
in their game
I have no idea
which part
I am

I walked to the pier
to watch the fisher people
who awoke with purpose
at dawn
to laugh and fish
pole in hand
bait in box
ice in chest
for action

I stood on the wood planks
forgetting all who I am
and a pigeon turned to me
and asked
“what are you doing here?”
And I could have said nothing
but I instead
watched the water
and realized
I had to write


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