Tide

The moon
is dark
this weekend

It pulls
with the sun
at our seas

Quietly
the sea rises
up and over

The harbour walls
cede
without a fight

Chuckling
at our futile
attempts to stem

The supertide
flows
round our streets

Gurgles
laps
and washes

Until it is
called away
leaving us dry

Where many feet of water
flowed around earlier
we now walk on dry land

Only to return
in six hours'
time and tide