Low Tide, Johore

The folded water flatly laps
Black mud where creatures flinch and creep:
Against horizons stunned with sleep
A lonely wader drags his traps.

His hat gleams like a plaited moon,
Swinging in movement stooped and slow;
The sea is still and thin below
The brittle light of afternoon.

Suspended in eternity
The hour hangs motionless, before
A rising sigh along the shore
Heralds the returning sea

by Cécile Parrish
from Poems (1966)


SELECTED POEMS: "Bidadari" >