Tipping Points

And every detail done

Imposes weight inflicts

Toward a tipping point

Some life, bending the curve of time

Toward some unsuspecting end.

The way the moon looks different in the morning

When sunrise strikes, alarms its other side

Ships turn their faces to the harbour in some protest

Against the pull and tug of ebbing tide

The light waves long and stretched through morning air

Strikes blue on the unaware.

 © Philip Knight 2018