when water levels rise and shoreline fades,

so is the day, calling for horizon line.
so is the view out from inside
its own tide.

paint peels at the frame of the windowsill,
a moth pinned within its double pane.

as glassine sky recedes into the edge
of water,
lo, i rise awake at seamless hour;

i have felt the breeze at my fingertips.
i, above, dipping under.