Waiting For The Tide Poem by David Wood

The waters in the marina today
Were gin clear, clear enough to
See the graves of discarded beer
Cans and empty bottles waiting
For time to pass.

On the surface black headed gulls,
Still in their summer coats, mix with
Herring gulls talking about the weather
Resting on floating tree debris. Other
Gulls were taking their morning bath.

Walking back over the sail bridge
Were people wrapped up in the veils
Of their own lives. They gave a local
Beggar, Jack, a wide berth as he sat
In the cold morning air.

A variety of plastic waste; bottles,
Fast-food wrappers, balls of all sizes
Waited, as if moored with the yachts.
They waited like homeless Jack, whose
Life was now just full of empty dreams.

I had no loose change but went to buy
Him a hot tea and sandwich. His face
Was already blue. The tide was waiting
Too. It had come in with the early fishing
Boats but like life, it paused to take stock.

I then sat on a bench in the quiet calm and
Stillness of the morning. Even the wind
Had stopped moaning as the sun smiled
Gently down. Everything now was paused,
Waiting for the tide to turn.