ebb-flow

Crab apple tree on pier

to pier, a boat to my boat

Sweet, sickly diesel and sour, river air

A potent, nasal note.

Ahoy, Stuart, welcome aboard, and do make yourself at home

away from home, 20 feet from shore.

Deck creeks, water leaks, gate squeaks

that needs a drop of oil

on the water.

Low tide now, mud exposed now

Delicious it looks, school chocolate pudding, Mississipi Mud Pie, Wandsworth-style.

At high tide all is hidden

creek, crack, rust, mud.

Inside all is golden wood

Golden hour, after hour

We tell the times by the tides here

and there

A globe, glowing orb in my floating room

no straight lines, no even keel

everything moves here.

Ebb-flow, up-down, to-fro, back-forth

G+T, the straw that broke Tom's back-

forth, to-fro, ebb-flow

mud, mud, duck, duck

don't forget to duck

this is a boat, after all.