Combing through the muck,
And filling holes in the creekbed
With affirmations 

I’m still tired,
Or maybe tired again

Walking to the edge of the water,
And wondering what comes next

Sharing secrets into the wind
That blows between the wet, white lines
Of the eastbound highway

Dry sand and wet sand,
The snow above my head
And the grass to my knees

Combing through the words,
And filling holes on the page
With whatever I can find