Circular Tides

Land’s End

Massive taciturn oaks stand silent on the bluff,
 Tendrils of moss wrap around trunk and bough.
Threatening clouds scud over Spartina stalks,
 Field mice scurry from red-shouldered hawks.

The energy of tides, of wind and rain,
 A texture, a fabric, a permanence that sustains.
The point where time fades and blends,
 With the mystery that is Land’s End.

A haunting garden where the earth meets sea,
 Sedges, and anemones, mixed with ox-eye daisies.
Barnacle-encrusted docks, worn and weathered,
 Fishing poles, bait buckets, and crab traps scattered.

The tide on the ebb, as daylight fades,
 Dolphins swim languidly, in the sun’s last rays.
Distantly across the sound, the ocean abides,
 Glimmering at twilight, as the land subsides.