Either the boat did not want
to be withdrawn from the water,

or the water did not want
to let its new prize go.

Waves of green foam
rolled over the railing

in a calm firmness,
and the trees cast shadows

on the rippling water
pooling at the edge of

a concrete slab where
a red truck’s wheels

were spinning in the mud.
A few more inches

and the rubber would have connected
to the waves bouncing off

the boat’s hull.
I sometimes think of life’s

fractions of inches
it reminds me of how closely

life and death are related.
I’m thinking now

watching two hawks circle
a fraction of an inch

to the left
of the chickens below.