a small vessel rests high and dry
the thin film of the littoral offering light and reflection
but no buoyancy - feeling it’s own weight for half the day
the satellite picks it up and sets it down again
maybe this is not rest - like a fish out of water
feeling the strain in the bulkheads
the steady inward pull of the blue globe
anchoring us to the low sand of the flats
offering the universe just below our feet