Low Tide

The tide was going out this morning. All the boats looked to be headed upstream, although the river was actually dragging them downstream against their moorings.

Diurnal

The tide recedes. The river looks
another lifetime older than
it did on Independence Day.

Boats align as compass needles,
considering upstream some polestar
that rescues immortality

or leastwise lends magnetic
personality to deal
with fears of going out to sea.

My coffee cup is running
over in this river valley,
yet I'm subjected to a dying

thirst for something stronger to ease
that last uninterrupted breeze.

Since I turned that 50 corner, I have to confess that my mortality is sometimes on my mind. I couldn’t help but look at the scene ahead of me in that light. The river was dragging things towards the infinite sea, but the boats were looking upstream, maybe for some fountain of youth. Or then again maybe it was just a natural event where the law of physics is master and commander... Nahhhh.