Every morning the Resident Crab
Inspects the integrity of my wooden structures
In preparation for the midday landings of the water birds
And the evening reflections of a lone writer
He sits silently looking across the calm waters of the lagoon
Gazing into the distance at the misty Hildelberg Ranges
Sometimes he takes shots with a white mobile phone
Sometimes he is nibbling food from a silver gray plate
And I’ve always noticed in his dreamy eyes
A silent sadness
One moon lit night the Sea came to visit
It rode on a watery chariot from the Basamuk canyon
It was sent by Mother Earth to warn her children
That the writer’s kind were planning a genocide
I heard the Sea speak with the Resident Crab
They whispered in low mournful tones
I could see the resident crab weeping
As the Sea left with the North wind to Bogia
An in the watery eyes of the Crab I noticed
A silent sadness
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