Small Life
Marooned, small life swims
in a rockpool flung up
and left high on the stretched
reach of last night's storm.
The world that holds them
has shrunk to a size
no bigger than a bucket.
The morning sun singles out
the forms and anoints each
with a dab of light.
I watch and swirl a finger
as if to stir the motion
of a running wave and break
the stagnating still
that has settled here.
This pool is too far away
from the normal wash
of tides to be replenished.
Cut off from the sea,
it will evaporate.
Each turn of a finger
through the water
seems to wind a thought
tighter around my head.
When I stop, an image
on the surface of the pool
slowly coagulates into me.
Just below the glaze,
life withdraws a little further
into its shrinking world,
separated from the sea.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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