I stood at the waters edge
as the white capped surge of the storm
races across the flat edge
of the horizon.
I look away from the
gray fold between
heaven and earth,
knowing it doesn’t end
or begin.
When I finally
slip into the cold water
pushing against steep
green faces,
I am caught by the wind
like a tiny kite,
a plastic toy for the Lake.
I don’t look at the horizon
like Hebrews don’t say the word G#d.