Salt Marsh

You sit as the sun sets and the tide goes out
and you listen to the water slithering away through the salt marsh.
A duck swims quietly in the foreground and dives for fish.

It is a beautiful place made of silt and refuse,
the garbage of the sea, left alone long enough
for beauty to emerge, for life, for safety.

Not as flashy as the ocean front beaches that rest on postcards,
and never rowdy or petulant, it merely persists,
content to be beautiful, whether seen and appreciated

Or not.