Sewing the Sea

Fishing for water,
sewing the sea,
you sit at ease
on a swept, beaten quay,
passing no heed
to time, tide nor
in the distance, me.

Shimmering
is your joy,
the sun speckle
bobbing your face
and settling like stardust
in your golden hair embrace.

You are at labour, lost
in your working world,
another day’s laissez-faire,
your legs sway with the freedom
of the water’s flow; and where
splashes freckle day’s outlook,

life’s all moderate to fair
because you’re free
to stitch your ties,
ones that will exert
their own force,
not now, later,
in due course.

And so, unmoved
you return to your post,
fishing for water,
sewing the sea, almost.

Neil is Dodging The Rain’s Poetry Editor.