Lazily I slip along the mud bank, gliding with out a sound.
Low tide demands my interest to pass within the marsh.
Snakelike, I travel the path that time has set
I round each bend to wondrous creatures big and small.

Be it heron bird or turtle sunning on a stump, they greet me,
but only to a point – away they go!  I have disturbed their day.
Forgiveness is assumed as they flee to a comfortable distance.
We gain equilibrium of trust, the creatures and me.

Neither wanting nor fearing, we enjoy our moment of faith.
Again, the tide demands my attention as I touch upon the bank.
I bid farewell to my companions and travel down the way.
The next turn is calling, new friendships to be found.

Time grows short, as the day passes and the surge is rushing in.
Freedom from the banks has her price - I see the marsh no more.
Only the Spartina reaches above the waves, bidding me time to go.
I row now, home with a smile, for soon I will see my companions again.

My darling is gone
the earth pushes tidal
tears up through the sand

sails in the east
round me, signs
upon them, I walk

for miles
to spartina and seepweed
and fro to the beacon

build a stone tower there
break stone for stone
read word for word, listen

and build writing and
singing sentence for sentence
our love again

I.

Bless the salt,
not from tears
but
from the water
from the air
from the Spartina grass
that laps it all up.

Bless the Plough mud,
full of nutrients, exfoliants,
that'll have you sinking, sinking, sinking
if you dare to enter.

Bless the beach.
Bless every shell,
broken and whole,
still beautiful.

Bless every dead jellyfish I saw
washed up on the shore,
managing even in death,
and still deserving of life.

Bless the dolphins
who've made this place
home.

Bless every pelican
which must
hunt relentlessly,
which must eventually
die for the hunt.

Bless the Carolina Gold,
which in the end,
tasted like regular rice.

Bless the history of this place,
the good and the bad and the ugly.
May we not forget any of it.

II.

Remember.

Remember
what t felt like
to feel toes in sand,
salt in hair,
cold, cold water lapping at feet.

Look at a shell
and make it mean more
than a vacant home.

Remember
the hunger of wanting to know
everything about this place.

Take that hunger back North,
where you must eventually go.

Remember
what it felt like
to move your body
to see something other than
city streets and bars.

It sounds cheesy,
but you need nature
more than you know.

And
you may never come back here,
but
remember
you can always find it.

Find it.

There once was a young girl from China
Who found a sprig of Spartina.
She went to the web
as her marsh it was dead
And found it’s from North Carolina.