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
proclaiming
existence.

the birds congregating
and I am not only a witness
but a player
in their game
although
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
ready
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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