Flood Tide

Even though the water is shallow here,

it is murky, and I stumble.

I had thought it easier than scrambling over the dry jagged rocks

with unprotected feet

to wade over the place which the ocean had worn down.


But it is strewn with the bones of the bluff,

and though they are not sharp,

my feet do not conform easily to their shapes.


In deference to the moon’s influence,

I must soon find my way to higher ground

or else offer myself as a feast for crabs

and the other multitudes of beasts

for whom my soft flesh would be too inviting to ignore.


The pulsing waves bring fractured lines of light

to slosh against my knees, and the stickiness left by their crests

climbs higher, higher.Image

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2 Responses to Flood Tide

  1. Erik S. says:

    Hmm… your description stretches out the time in a moment. Reminds me of experiences not necessarily noteworthy, but different and savored. When returning to usual dwellings, having something unfamiliar to reminded yourself (the stickiness of salt). This story has a sort of dreamy feel and goes well with the lighting in your photograph. Was it a dream? Did you have salt on your legs when you woke up?

  2. dfconnelly22 says:

    It comes from an experience, of wading around a bluff in the Port Townsend vicinity, and reckoning my time.

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