The moon stirred the oceans with her spurtle.
The tides, thus created, made trembling froth
On the blue world’s ragged eaves,
A strandline chaos, sometimes wet, sometimes dry,
Coming and going, in and out, back and forth.
It was the sea teaching the land how to breathe.
A haul-out slope became a stepping stone
Then steps for ambitious fumbling creatures
Who were teaching themselves how to breathe.
Lungs filling with astonishment and wonder.
Ah plants. Ah purple mountains beyond.
Ah the familiar spiral re-interpreted as frond.