Low Tide

The sea pulled back before noon,
far beyond the harbor wall.
Boats were leaning in the mud,
people came to watch it all.

Someone found an old brass key,
someone laughed and walked ahead.
I followed footprints through the sand
where the water used to rest.

Then every gull rose at once,
turning hard toward the land.
No one else was looking up.
No one seemed to understand.

Low tide,
farther than I'd ever seen.
The whole sea had disappeared,
leaving secrets in between.

Low tide,
everybody moving on.
I was staring at the birds
when I knew that something was wrong.

There were anchors, broken stairs,
rusted pieces in the clay.
People wandered farther out,
carrying their finds away.

Then the wind went strangely still.
Not a ripple, not a sound.
I looked back toward the shore
and turned my footsteps around.

Still the crowd kept walking out,
eyes fixed on the empty blue.
I began to run for land
before I even knew.

Low tide,
farther than I'd ever seen.
The whole sea had disappeared,
leaving secrets in between.

Low tide,
I didn't wait to know.
When the birds all flew for land,
I knew which way to go.