egg

Tides

Posted by & filed under eggs past.

Tennyson Ryals

I haven’t seen the tides today
come up to hide the musty shore.
This sea of ours is silken gray.

This rotting jewel—the empty bay
is not the one we used to praise.
I haven’t seen the tides today.

Gone are boats and jagged spray;
while sand and stones are cracked with sun,
this sea of ours is silken gray.

The kelp has gone, but moss still paves
the rotting docks in emerald wool.
I haven’t seen the tides today.

The ancient kings used shells to pay
for silk—just like the ones I found.
This sea of ours is silken gray.

The seagulls circle rusting caves
for crabs inside their gritty tombs.
I haven’t seen the tides today.
This sea of ours is silken gray.