Constantly I witness people taking others for granted.

The slippery silver fish we capture
for a capsule in time, marveling at the sheen,
as it lies floundering
at the bottom of the boat.

Love can ensnare as powerfully as a hook.

There is power in that knowing,
and responsibility.

We tremble before the beloved,
hardly considering the weight
of what we have welcomed
into our care.

Good love takes time.

Things evolve,
and things devolve.

The bright scales begin to dull,
yet the aliveness remains,
just not inside the same illuminated skin.

There is something noble and true
in allowing mundanity its inevitability.

Perhaps we discover new ways
to embrace it. It’s a long arc, this life.

I wish I had had more
of my sea legs beneath me,
yet life kept rolling,
and though nobody cast me a lifeline,
I was determined to stay in the boat,
to learn to love the changes,

to frame delight
less as a thing performed
and more as a being
discovering itself
on equal footing.