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# Low Tide at Saint-Malo
- URL: https://verse.ghostcms.templates.codememory.com/low-tide-at-saint-malo/
- Published: 2026-09-27T08:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-09-27T08:00:00.000Z
- Description: A poem about waiting, and the moment the sea comes back.
- Author: Jonah Lind
- Tags: Poetry, #Import 2026-09-30 17:08

The sea goes out so far at Saint-Malo  
you could walk to England, almost,  
if you did not mind the mud  
and had nowhere to be by evening.

The rocks come up like the backs of animals  
that have been asleep under the water  
for a thousand years, and are not  
in any hurry to wake.

A man is digging for clams with a fork.  
A child is carrying a crab in both hands  
the way you would carry a letter  
that had to reach someone by tonight.

I stand where the harbour ends  
and the wet sand begins, and I think of you,  
which is to say I think of everything  
that goes out and comes back.

The tide will turn at four.  
It always does, the tables say so,  
but still the whole beach waits for it  
like a room waiting for a knock.

And when it comes, it comes all at once,  
the way you did, the way the light does  
over the walls of the old town,  
the way I would like to learn to.