I was a grey thoughtin a grey sky —holding on, holding on,then letting go.
The falling was the easy part.Everything belowrushed up to catch me.
I met the othersin the ditch and the dark,and we went looking for lower ground,the way water always does.
We widened. We slowed.We carried a boat, a heron,a whole town's afternoonon our back.
Then the ground fellout from under us —and for one white secondwe were only falling, and singing.
The sea took me backwithout a word,the way it takes everything:gently, and for good.
But the sun keepsa warm hand out.One morning it lifts me — light again —and the long line begins once more.