Salt marsh, dusk
by Katie Anagostou
Blades of sawgrass bend beneath the golden
weight of the setting sun, thick as honey,
until their pointed edges meet with the river
and cut V’s into the black, rolling surface.
Salty, ancient mud weighs at the edges,
pulling down, deep into the wealth of
ongoing life and progress, so small as
to seem unimportant- but in the falling
daylight, a beauty so subtle and so complete
renders all things equal, great, and whole.
A heron arises suddenly from the tide,
from another sky beneath the marsh
nearly as endless as the one above.