Each Life a Stream

I have been like you, plucking mussels
off the shore—the eelgrass was dead,
moss once green, fading into brown.
In the shallows, hundreds of silver
herring without cover to spawn.
My own life barely in its tenth year,
kept me prowling the marsh, that
beautiful edge where earth lays down
her arms. I followed a snowy plover
foraging in the sand. With its endless
loop of trills & tur-weets, I imagined
myself untouched, a puff of seafoam
blown high above waves & I was happy.
When I found the sparrow, white throat
flecked with red, I held him in my palm
& let my eyes wander. Where does a
heart go when it is desperate for breath?