Like the mixing salt and fresh water
making it not favorable for either species,
we have come to a brackish place —
marsh grass obscuring our view, and we,
like young crabs, hiding from imagined predators.
Like black-shelled turtles emerging from underground tunnels,
they hide their heads from the rain,
scurry to their assigned dry places,
shake off water, disappear – but for one
blue shell that separates to find ocean.
All the rivers run into the sea.
Tributaries, estuaries where fresh meets salt water.
Rivers are always changing, but the cycle
is invariable; all returns to the headwaters.
Man. Water. There is no new thing.
“There is no new thing” – Ecclesiastes 1:7