Dark of the Moon

Chapter 21: Low Tide

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About This Book

A collection of lyric poems organized into thematic sections that dwell on natural landscapes, seasonal change, and intimate emotion. Short, image-driven pieces range from moonlit nights and coastal scenes to autumnal boulevards and secluded woods, often pairing precise sensory detail with reflections on longing, love, memory, and mortality. Portraits of individuals and quiet elegies appear alongside meditations on stars and tides, producing a restrained, musical voice that emphasizes transience and beauty through concise, resonant language.

Low Tide

The birds are gathering over the dunes,

Swerving and wheeling in shifting flight,

A thousand wings sweep darkly by

Over the dunes and out of sight.

Why did you bring me down to the sea

With the gathering birds and the fish-hawk flying,

The tide is low and the wind is hard,

Nothing is left but the old year dying.

I wish I were one of the gathering birds,

Two sharp black wings would be good for me—

When nothing is left but the old year dying,

Why did you bring me down to the sea?