The Salt Marsh
The salt marsh at high tide teems with life.
You won’t see it at first, but wait.
Wait and watch and listen. You will see it.
A flitter at first. A ripple. A rustle.
The longer you are still, the more life you see.
About this poem.
The older I get, the more I learn by being still.
The picture is of the salt marsh at the end of Provincetown, Massachusetts. One of my favorite places. I think it is partially because it reminds me of the mill pond and Blackwater Swamp in Surry County, Virginia, where my favorite grandfather lived. Only with horizons.