So Close

Tantramar, the river, deep, tidal
moving on a March morning, high as she goes

there in the banked and thrown ice
the leaking limits of the marsh

move free in their melting, leaving crusts
to the shudder of tidal might.

The sea-force moves and makes a landscape
empty in a winter season of searching birds,

it is a happening of nature we try to chart
and plot our way to nearer understanding

but it is the going on of the place
the floating-by of life, so close, so close.

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