#mooring

When night becomes heavy, I break a hole in the bag of the universe and climb out. I tell you I struggle to keep the wind from disturbing Jupiter’s moons, lacquered and hung carefully to dry, else night would fill with dissonant chimes.

Who knew the universe would end up as tangled planets, how the strings that hold us would wrap around our wrists. You ask where I am headed in such a hurry? To find the scissors to cut the knots. All morning the otter has been tying the kelp strands into bows.

The sea becomes the gift we open tenderly where orcas stitch and patch, making room for their young, blessing the moon as they swim through her light. Because the sky tells us we must hurry, I knit my worries into a chain of grasshoppers, a lifeline in this diorama of ours to save us from unmooring.

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When We Make Lifelines, the Universe Breathes a Little Easier

Kelli Russell Agodon (B.1969)

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Day 2860, 13 April 2026

Canal Moments 68/100: The pastel colours of a misty marina morning.