February

The water is murky,

reminding me of the pororoca in Brazil.

The water is murky but it doesn't roar,

nor destroys anything.

In fact, it is gentle, almost as if avoiding 

any movement. 

Softly kissed by the winter sun, particles.

Deposited during the last seasonal rain, 

they float alongside the giant kelp, the 

harbor seal, me. 

Shining shyly, poignantly murky, 

small waves come and go. Drifting.

Of a timid energy, holding still just enough

I let them pass, I breathe momentum. 

It all seems too brief.

With enough paddle I am on it. I am not.

The water is murky, yet the kelp dances.

Going in, floating along, moving.

Seagrass wrapping around my toes, one 

step forward. 

Missteps, my vessel is home.

In February, I give it a hug and a kiss. 

I feel welcomed.