I picked my way across green rocks,
down to the dead-low waters,
over the sliding limpet trails,
to meet the brown-haired daughters.
In the slackened tide they waved
and stooped and bowed to me,
and golden shouldered stood in crowds,
waist deep in a slopping sea.
In an hour the Moon returned –
towing the flow astern,
and the last I saw was tangled heads
as the sea began to churn.