A waxing crescent-
The Moon- pale orange glistens
above the dark water

where our crab traps sink
beneath the surface, down, down
under the surface

just to be hauled
back up again, dredging up
passengers from another world

A place removed;
that knows little of the light
of that slim crescent

But is still pulled and pushed
by that distant orb, its phases
the rhythm of that life