Sonja Kosler

Feet

My feet feel weathered boards
as I walk to the end of the dock
where I will sit under the perfect half moon.

My legs sway in lazy arcs
while toes blend lunar light
adrift in the drowsy midnight lake.

Secure in this liquid world
I watch as a solitary loon
dips and dives into the water.

I wonder about this loon.
How does she occupy her time?
Does she have a plan?
Is her life closer to the beginning or the end?

I lift callused feet from the water
observe the drips as minutes from a clock
ticking toward the tomorrow
I see arriving ever too soon.

{Poetry by Sonja Kosler)