water slides into the flat gray sky.
Gulls don't know which way to face.
Four dinghies with drooping sails
are expressions of late-day hope.
the sharp edge of land,
small ducks hold their breath, upend,
feed on life beneath the oily surface,
bob back, slide smoothly on the glass.
boats move swiftly. The coxswain
pumps the crew in a steady rhythm.
They are anxious birds in the skywater,
their wings up then down, up, down.
sails languish, clutch the masts
as the concrete coloured sky is pulled
slowly inland by the setting sun.
small fleet of ducks glide
toward the darkening shore
as the breathless dinghies wallow
in the hopeless watersky.