Ducks wrestle doubly
Wet from rain and river flow;
As above…qua-a-ack…so below.

The air is cold.
But I don't notice.
Because as I walk across the frozen lake,
I know I can't afford
to make a mistake.
The longer I look
At the fish that swim below,
A feeling grows inside me.
It's not fear.
But fascination.
We always say we wish
Time would slow.
And walking on water
Makes me realize it does.
We just don't notice.

I sit at the edge of the world,
as water falls from the ocean
into the abyss that is the sky
and floats past the stars.

Where I cling to handfuls of dirt
and grass, and the rocks that cling too,
so I do not fly up
and drown in the universe above
and below me.

thin pale grass
competing with the
big, strong tree roots
pushed to the surface
from below the ground

below the ground
there are secrets

heavy clay
compacted soil
striving for moisture and air

below the ground
there are secrets.

we cut the tree roots
remove the grass
plant a new garden

below the ground
there are reasons

When you grow like a tree over property lines
  And are drawn into a yard unwanting and free
    It’s not the sharpest saw which cuts the deepest ties
      But the quiet in moving away from beneath

The hate you keep inside won’t help you float.
But you cling to it, so below you.

Push it under you, to get above the waves.
But eventually the swell will drag you to hell.

Cling to it so below you.
It’s weight will stretch your arms.
Drag you down.

Down into the undertow. Against progress.
So vile, repugnant and insipid. You rot.
Your fingernails leave scars on hate.
You cling to it so.
But shout opposed to such accusation.

Now low enough the crash of the waves blind you.
Squinting through their spray, you struggle.
Treading in denial as you try to pull your hate to breast.

I’d reach out to you, if your hate wouldn’t drag us down together.
And we’d be clinging to something so below you.