Out Of The Woods Yet Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

he narrowed his eyes
focusing on the point
where sea, sky and sand
abandoned colour and dissolved into nothingness

alone on the deserted beach in winter
no dunlin, crows or gulls
no tattered silhouettes of ships blown in
atop their plunging glistening hulls

had he made a promise
to the stick-men and the snake
then, if tomorrow came....

he poked holes with his fingers
where they could stand
and with the curve of is shoe
a place for that wooden head

but even if,
how could he explain
the dog-tide grey and massive
there pulling at it's chain