I like this one best. The lines seem to have a solidity, like things in the world, not merely words about the things. Love "estuary" all by itself like this, as if someone stands on the shore, looking out and testing the word's heft and spread in the mouth. And the ending is perfect -- not quite regret, as I read it, but recognition....
thankyou. I have a confession... the ending is a rewording of lines from a Laforgue poem "How picturesque they are, the trains we've missed...". the notion of possibilities being more meaningful than actualities
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