The tide lulls on the St. Lawrence River.

Freshwater collides with water from the sea.

A brackish surge has opportunity 

To gain entrance to the establishment.

The flux of my positivity ebbs.

The good subsides with the bad and the ugly,

And the low slung wildflowers and daisies grow

Right alongside the weeds,

Dwarfed by constant landslide

In the topsoil of my mind.

And maybe some living things could evolve

To thrive in the briny waters

Of my heart,

As they have this salty river,

But so far it's only the warm, wry smiles 

And giggles of my children.

-jenn