• By Michael R. Burch

Ebb Tide



Massive, gray, these leaden waves

bear their unchanging burden—

the sameness of each day to day


while the wind seems to struggle to say

something half-submerged planks at the mouth of the bay

might nuzzle limp seaweed to understand.


Now collapsing dull waves drain away

from the unenticing land;

shrieking gulls shadow fish through salt spray—

whitish streaks on a fogged silver mirror.


Sizzling lightning impresses its brand.

Unseen fingers scribble something in the wet sand.


Michael R. Burch is the editor of The HyperTexts, on-line at www.thehypertexts.com, where he has published hundreds of poets over the past three decades. His poetry has been translated into fourteen languages, taught in high schools and colleges around the globe, incorporated into three plays and two operas, and set to music by seventeen composers. A five-time Pushcart nominee, his poems, translations and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary journals, including The Lyric, New Lyre, Romantics Quarterly, The Chained Muse, LIGHT, Measure, Southwest Review, The Chariton Review, The Chimaera, Brief Poems, Poem Today, Asses of Parnassus, Writer’s Digest—The Year’s Best Writing and The Best of the Eclectic Muse.

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