Before the Tide
       

An eastern beach—the sun spreads
              across the horizon until the heat
hardens, a sphere the gulls fly into
              as they chatter and dive for shadows.
A few broken fish, pounded by the waves,
              trail their viscera across the sand.

Early is best, you say, walking ahead
              with the rising light, before the heat
lifts the stench of rotting fish on a shore
              still smooth from the night, before
the tide crusts your skin with salt.

Copyright © 2010 Berwyn Moore All rights reserved
from O Body Swayed
Cherry Grove Collections
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission