out of the seaplane

assessing the worth of the fabrics of the shore
azure, moss-green, and bone-gold, and then that
sea-blue veined by pitch foam-pearl, no name
enough. worn by a worthy patron wind, the four sisters
of coming and going, being and unbeing. notebook
lines scatter; the vastness of being alive enters and
exits me. scaring me? reaching my hand into the shallow,
i quicken the speed of a single fish and watch it
daunt the length of the surface comet-tail to return to
its friends. all of a sudden i believe there is a god.