snow

In everything, I see water
gazing at the mountains, 
purply blue swells
lapping at the curve of the earth,

fading into the distant nothing

which is everythingness,
I feel the tug of an old tide, 
the undeniable call of gravity, of moon, 
of women, of salt

Some might call this home sickness, but 
it's deeper than that

and stronger, its channels 
coursing with life, countless 
bioluminescing creatures, 
impossibly large ancient things, 
like no withering sickness I know

Even in this crisp snow, frozen spectacle
I feel adrift, a thousand waves suspended,
broken into particles
observing, surrounding

waiting for the melt