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