There Are Salt Marshes All Around Poem by Mark Heathcote

There are salt marshes all around.
But it's hard to find a safe nesting site.
Some clandestine evil hasn't already been
There are barren outcrops that are sparse.
Where the moon peeps in
And spotlights the ground
And highlights all the stars on your highway.
Where some demon is dancing
And calling out all the thieves
To road rage and racing in the streets.
There are mountain tops levelled with pain.
That still hears a little birdsong.
After every rainstorm that doesn't pitter-patter out
Just because your life rattles in chains.
Some oceans are warm and wild.
A siren sits in an enclave, sheepish.
But she wants to call your name out and be your slave.
But even here, many mermen die.
Some places have you walking backwards.
Fingers aching on a ledge hanging
Don't believe in gripping a lifeline.
Or being free
Tomorrow is always brighter.
Just wait and see.