To glide above the waves of change

When the sun rides
low over the waves
the fish begin to sparkle plainly
just below the surface
and the birds have learned
it's a great time
to fly low.
Why is it,
I wonder,
that so much activity happens
at the edges of life,
at dawn, and dusk,
when dark is on the rise
or light just starts to glow
and boundaries begin to blur...
good and evil fly together there,
shake hands and glide
just above the waves of change,
watching for the sparkle of possibility,
for tasty dreams to feed on,
to incorporate, or to discard.


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