The Haul Home

Ink Stained and tangled seaweed
Smouldering in seafire
Broken on sentinel shore
Halting hightide out in rushing rhythms
Cottage smoke whispwrithes into a silverblack, lightless night
Wild edge and wild air whip and froth
Under a creeping moons midwatch
And yet to go still against the cold pull
There to weave and unweave shadowshoals
And haul home through skerried squalls
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