Fishing boats

Birds crying

in this clarity

sharp and precise

boats ride

the harbor waves

the waters flutter and still

in the breeze

it is moving

not somewhere

but moving nonetheless

in some endless expression

On the beach,

ruined boats, rust eaten

hulled out and dead

I can hear the sounds of saws

planing out

some future skiffs

for birds to find a home in

when they meet

what is coming to them

the nets drag in the fish

but some get away

to find

nothing really but tomorrow

some children play with crabs

on the beach

the sun is bright today

I can hear the birds cry

 

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