Low tides can be very far sometimes!

Low tide

I walk beside you

across mudflats in

my blue gumboots,

over crackling oyster

shells, green-ribbed pipi,

the traces of wading birds.

When the tide is out, what lies exposed:

river threads of mud, old brown stones

tiny mussels yet to grow:

my sole prints left

on the ocean's

bones.

By: Sarah Penwarden