There is movement beneath the water, but it may be nothing. There may be nothing going on. And then life suggests that you remember the years you ran around, the years you developed a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have become. And then life lets you go home to think about all this.
Which you do, for quite a long time. This is life's way of letting you know that you are lucky. So you have a sandwich,and pie for your late night dessert. And then go back to bed, to dreamland, while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,with smiles on their starry faces as they head out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.
plucked from STARFISH, a poem by Eleanor Lerman