Where Mariners Trod and Lifted Where mariners trod and lifted and the silvery cod smacked down upon the cutting board now the weightless sea-scrubbed breeze blows through now listen, is it saying something true says it a sleep will come for you from which you do not have to wake for which your bones are not required to ache and that petals from the wild saltwater roses will adorn your face when you slip down at last and waves lap over rather than against and the storms no longer threaten and the gulls no longer whirl in clouds in shrieking clouds to claim the remnants of the gutted cod but only flock to somewhere else, to somewhere since the what that you have been is nowhere and the who that you have been returned to god or to creation's mix once more to churn? Or does the wind say nothing more than hushabye? I feel the falling tide. I will not drown but only be pulled, stick by stick, out to sea to the beautiful sea, to the sea ever shining lit up by the moon or the stars or the sun never old never young never done nor undone only rocking and rolling the deep and the cradle only endlessly rocking the cradle. 14 September 2021 Texas Jim Prospect, Nova Scotia www.granitecoast.ca