The Shore That Followed Her

Today I found a woman standing where the maps insist there is only water. Branches had caught in her hair, or perhaps they had grown there; she was patient about the distinction. Each wave reached her knees, paused, and went back carrying a little more of the mountain’s reflection. I asked whether she needed a boat. She looked toward the dark peak and said, “No. I am waiting for the sea to remember it has feet.”