Circular Tides


a poem by




Gnarled river oaks, serpentine roots,
Swirling tannic water, an owl’s distant hoot.
White sand bars, fan out from the shoreline,
As little blues glide looking for a place to dine.

Yellow-bellied sliders, bask on fallen limbs,
Dew-laden spider webs glisten like faceted gems.
Hawks perch high in towering pines,
Turkey buzzards glide in descending lines.

Overhanging branches, cast cool shadows,
On fishing holes, and secluded sloughs.
Trees bend and twist in a sinuous dance,
As bream break the surface, disturbing water plants.

Raccoons on the prowl, explore rotten logs,
While furtive water bugs avoid hungry frogs.
Patches of sunlight dapple the river as it flows,
On and on, around the bend, easy as it goes.

To the marsh, the sound, the ocean, and beyond,
It undulates toward the eastern dawn.
Expanding the boundaries of knowing,
Is time and the river flowing.

PHOTOGRAPH: Courtesy of Bill Davis