Snapshot – Dockside


The waves lap up against the dock
Now hear the rowboat strain and creak
As salt-burned nostrils feel the shock
Of air heavy with fishy reek

And as eyes squint, the shoulders burn
The sun beats down unheedingly
And casts its glare on everything
From sandy beach to glimm’ring sea

The crab-trap lines are tied and taut
The sun is high along its course
The Summer’s scorching, it’s on fire:
Like me
It burns

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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