At the pier’s end,

a lantern swayed in the wind,

its light holding back

the dark by inches.

 

The tide had gone out hours ago,

leaving the seabed bare —

a map of ridges and hollows

drawn by hands no one remembers. 
Somewhere in the shallows,

a fish turned once,

as if to read the lantern’s flicker

like a message meant for it alone.

 

When the wind dropped,

the light kept moving —

as though the night itself

had learned to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

.