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Estuary

Estuary

Through the night I stayed at the estuary, on a curve of sand where the sea’s soft palm meets the river’s mouth. Rows of fishermen cast their years in rhythm to the crabs and fish fry that drift under the waves, the foam a pantomime of their reels and wrists spanning the horizon.

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They too rise before dawn, dawdle to the shore as bouncing spheres of light like squid dancing and merging together, fading and replacing one another in this meeting place, a word unheard.

Morning sea and sky the fishermen’s silhouettes form a black pier

Erica White – June 2021

Through the night I stayed at the estuary, on a curve of sand where the sea’s soft palm meets the river’s mouth. Rows of fishermen cast their years in rhythm to the crabs and fish fry that drift under the waves, the foam a pantomime of their reels and wrists

They too rise before dawn, dawdle to the shore as bouncing spheres of light like squid dancing and merging together, fading and replacing one another in this meeting place,

Morning sea and sky the fishermen’s silhouettes form a black pier

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