Rip-Tide

There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3.

There is a tide in the affairs of men--
it's rip-tide now, and all along the coast
the boats are stirring, pulling at their lines
and pointing prows upstream, like gun-dogs on
the scent. An oar goes floating past, a stray
seat-cushion fallen from some dinghy moored
by the marina; swirls of bubbles mark
the current's hidden passage undersea.

You've watched and known the daily rise and fall
but this is different, new, orthogonal
a stealth bomb third-time-downer. Nothing shows
except the painted eyes, the pointing nose
of sleeping boats awakened by the smell
of change that's riding underneath the swell.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside