in the ebb tide

there comes a time,

and it always comes,


when the tide begins to ebb,

the waters of the bay, they cease their inward flow,

they gather themselves to  pause a fateful pause,

to cling with desperation to life's advance,

to hold on, to hold on,

to beg one moment more.

the waiting waters still to darkening glass,

caught between

what was about to be

and what will always be.

in that turning of the tide,

in that delayed surrender,

the seagulls cease their chatter,

the winds, they quiet into respectful consideration,

and the currents, the  hidden currents,

they change their minds,

and they return

from whence they came,

once again,

in spite of all their weeping, sad reluctance,

they return

drawn forever home.


The End

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