The boat rocks once—
just enough
to remind the water
it is being watched.
Dusk leans gently
against the hull.
The day does not end—
it loosens its grip.
Along the shoreline,
lights bloom one by one,
like quiet thoughts
finally allowed to surface.
The city hums—
distant, indifferent—
a lantern of noise
set adrift on land.
Here, there is only
the line in the water,
the slow breath of the tide,
and the fading outline of things
that never needed a name.
A fish does not hurry.
The sky does not cling
to its colors.
And you—
sitting between cast and current—
forget to ask
for anything more.
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