Weeks after the rain had ended, the river was flowing from me. Feeling for slippery stones beneath
cold feet, I stepped on one, then another smooth gray rock jutting above the stream.
So I'll get wet.
Fear gone, I recalled the path on which I became a human person among other-than-human beings.




Knowing everything begins again, Poseidon walks with a smirk made from the myth
of his chronic frown. But
the miracle is: there are no gods, and nothing begins again.