began each day like this,
as though it were the last.
I know the last days will be here, where the sun runs into the
ocean, and that I will see in a movement of sea birds and hear in
the sound of water beating against the earth what I now only
imagine, that the ocean has a sadness beyond even the sadness of
birds. that in the running into it of rivers is the weeping of the
earth for what is lost.