Slipping off a rock
mid-river, the ouzel
dips into the current
and I can’t decide
if the immersion was
an accident
or intentional,
but aren’t so many
baptisms just
like that, where
we enter the water
unsure of whether
we meant to be there
or not, but wet
we are, and
before we know it
we’re flying away,
the same old wings
oddly new.