All alone one might think they stand in muddy water unclear
Now feeling like a drowned rat in time and not utter a peep,
Where all at once there might have been a wooden pier
Like a wooden driver pilings driven in still waters so deep.
Crustily, dusty and maybe even barnacled big and beside
Against a ravaging, descending shoreline as if it were cascading,
As though in silent trembling tenors when at once it was denied,
Then came in full force as if it was intended to be tending.
In courageous flow and dubious angles as in endless angles tilted
Against thundering tumultuous wind and wave at raging hand
Like the all elusive lost lonely lovers of long and been jilted
For all would think that they were stuck in between sea and land.
Copyright © Eden Barton | Year Posted 2016