Poetry · Poem
Estuary
Reflections on the brackish margins of the Indian River Lagoon.
The roots of red mangroves reach down like fingers seeking salt and loam, tangled in the rising tide.
A blue crab scuttles through the silt; above, the heavy sky turns lead before the afternoon release.
There is a quiet in this rot, a sweet decay that feeds the bay and keeps the silent heron still.