Reset

The boat rises with the tide.
Well worn. Blue paint. Ropes in the bow.
There is work to be done. Maintenance.
A reset while the other craft are in deep waters
plying their trade.

You have learned.
Now and again you have to stop.
Do the work. Undo the damage,
at least enough to go on,
retying the nets. Take time
to rethink your waters, your paths,
the spots in the sea you ply,
perhaps even what you fish for.
Letting the tide rise and fall and rise again
without you.

About this poem.

The world goes on without us. Every time.

The picture was taken at Cape Cod. It is available as a print.

Tom