As the tide goes out,
the road appears sandy and inviting,
a thin shimmering strand of connective tissue
between the mainland and the island.
We’re in England,
just below the border with Scotland,
a shifting line of capture and release,
like the tides themselves
with less regularity.
Changing over time, and leaving restless pools
of life and inhabitants swirling in transition;
some are acquiescent,
while others defiant.
This is the elastic borderlands
between two countries
in the same empire
protruding from the same nurturing sea.