The pier stands in the sea
anchored to the shore, leaning out to the horizon
the waves slamming against its legs.
The end of the pier is the furthest point you can walk away from the shore
but the sea looms much further out.
On a clear night the moon
throws your shadow out to sea.
The wind is cold
running along the pier over my scarf and stinging my face.
Gulls soar by or call to each other on the rails.
When I turn around
your back faces me
as you walk away along the pier to the shore.