From oyster-crusted rocks launched,
the canoe glides sunken inlets,
furrowing through the lagoon’s lip.

We match each other,
slapping the water’s
close-mouthed challenge,
each stroke sapping energy.

Along the channel, tide becomes sea,
sucking in a flotilla of life.

Across Tanja lagoon the sun goes out.
Night draws us home. We grin;
sliding into tide, we know
there are times like this that bind.