It is Thursday. I had forgotten gratitude. The effort of lift. I stand in the shallows with the small tides lapping. I could lift my foot from the silt and water weed, lift and step dripping. I could make my way with stir and splash, each pace again a descent into mystery, a plunge and wonder. I could walk on, negotiating. Or I could stay. I could bend, hunker, submerge.