Tides that Shape

The tide goes still, as if it’s thinking, A frozen field begins to come apart

What held its shape just an hour ago, had a change of heart, to go with the flow

No one sees the hand that moves Just different versions in different grooves

It is what it is.  Which isn’t what it was.

Same cold pieces, rearranging just because

Stack them up, then let them fall, It is what it is… But it isn't what it was

Some lean tall like they've got a plan, Some collapse mid-thought, like doubt got there first

Some hold shape just long enough, To feel like something… and that's enough

Boulders one minute, water the next Same material in a different context Trying on styles like clothes in a store. None of them wrong. Just not the one.

No one sees the hand that moves, Just different versions in different grooves

Like giant ice sculptures drifting downstream — merrily, merrily—until the birds come home~