MacLlyr the Prepper Bard

Tide

upon that eerie time-lapse ledge
where sands of shore and water's edge
do interact their dance of tides
'neath moon-kissed days and starless nights
the swan, still leery, crane-necked, waits
not caring to transit said gates...


[dry feet? no water 'neath my breast?
all water? no wind 'neath my chest?
my wings do wither; webbed feet dry...]
i must needs have both Sea and Sky
and dance on winds and water glide
i must pass through transition, Tide.

jMc aka Cygnus

Slainte.