Outgoing tide
flushing predator & prey.
Taking all to the mat
at the end of the day.
High tide's long over;
festivities a wrap.
Only route left
on life's fading map.
Find joy in small pools
of eddied h20.
Hang onto the crags;
refuse to let go.
Extend your stay:
enjoy your ride.
Go kicking & screaming
against the Outgoing Tide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem