THERE IS A TIDE
The tide was high when we put in
At Chapman’s Landing halfway down
The Squamscott, and there was no wind.
We thought the fisherman’s advice was sound
To head downstream toward the Great Bay
So when the tide began to ebb
We’d be assisted on our way.
We watched the heron overhead,
Admired the osprey nest on shore
And came in sight of the railroad bridge
Through which the current was moving more
Forcefully on its leading edge.
While turning around to look behind
One paddler broadsided the flow
And we were suddenly shocked to find
That she was swimming outside her boat,
Her kayak firmly pinned in place
Against two randomly rooted posts,
Nailed by the current’s relentless pace,
Weighed down by the water’s steady flow.
Then it was that we recognized
What tidal power held us fast,
That there would be no compromise
Until we reached the sea at last.
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