DECEMBER 2006 / JANUARY 2007 – NO. 11

Ebb Tide

by Frank Womble

Poetry.


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The ice receded
And the tide started its run
Marking the last ten millennia
In Knott's Creek.

Nocturnal and diurnal
It rises and falls
Imperturbable and ageless,
Oblivious to the affairs of men.

The Nansemond plied log canoes
Before the English settlers came.
Farmers tilled the land,
But they are gone too.
Only fence posts remain,
Silent sentinels.

The crazy quilt of marsh grasses
Changes with the seasons
Always faithful
To the promise of spring.

Herons and egrets follow the tide
That will ebb and flow
As long as there is a moon
That pulls the water.


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