Tiny Island

The moon mops up shadows the sun had baked onto the beach.
We watch and we wonder which of us will leave.
A breeze seizes our choices and scatters them out of our reach.
We walk on damp sand to the rock where large moulting birds grieve.
A dragon-eyed cormorant regards us. It raises one wing.
We look where it points. The horizon’s half-hidden in haze
where the world edge drops off. We strain and we see a small thing.
It’s a boat. It’s a yacht. We’ve not seen other people for days.

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