These little skiffs are light, unladen.
She flitters and darts like a tern.
She dives into the waters of the normal
And streaks out again.
Her own way, her own thoughts.
Her feet sail on favorable winds.
These boats are waterlogged.
They’ve motored many miles,
Some waters choppier than others.
Sometimes I thought I would sink.
These shoes are battered and storm-worn
And struggle to rise above the pressure of the waves.
Notes: My daughter snapped this photo completely by happenstance while playing with my phone. I sometimes find a hundred new photos of randomness in the photo files, especially when the device protests that it is out of memory. I save many of them, and sometimes they summon inspiration.
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