I like to find

 what's not found

 at once, but lies

 within something of another nature

     - Denise Levertov, "Pleasures"

Here where the land ends is the beginning.

There is nothing to say that hasn’t been said

And is being repeated again over and over.

Nothing to see but what is in front of you

Where light is slipping slowly into the water

From clusters of lily pads and into shadows.

How fish are lured by fragile little ripples

Of dragonflies and water striders, piercing

The centers with a silver flash and splash.

The thick muck of leaves where the bank

Declines to cattails and two cottonwoods

Lean into each other on shallow muddy roots.

Frogs whose roots go deeper than any tree

Begin to tell their story that would sound

Like a myth if it weren’t also our story . . .

How they began in the womb of the water

As something else, something becoming,

And showed us the way into the ancient air.

(Apologies to any Creationist friends)