Accidents

Big water slaps two shores

and the birds don’t care,

one shore being as another

for those who travel without

documents.

I am paused to wonder,

how some are perfect-built for

flying and splashing about,

web-footed and well-oiled.

The feathered creatures

do not notice me

nor do I see myself,

though our shared water is mirror-glass still.

Recounting this scene,

some will bear witness to what’s divine,

others, accident.

That shores are bounded separate by design

can be no question.

Man’s conniving hand is on that one,

grubby and greedy,

but who/what drove/drives a man?

Was he accident?

and I don’t mean of the kind

brought me to the world,

or maybe?