Waiting for burial

At first glance
it could just be driftwood,
but look again
for a second
and you may chance
to see the shape
of prow and stern
protruding from the mud.

Once this was a living,
sailing by day and even night
from the sheltering Suffolk waters
of the River Deben;
questing for sea food,
looking for a livelihood,
fishing for a future,
to generate provision
for another generation. 

The boat now buried
was big and bold, and strong enough
to house a crew of several men
and then bring in
rich harvests from the sea.
A boat and booty prized
through many years.

Until….until the boat began to tire
and the booty to decline
as age advanced 
to take its toll.

Then moored more often
than taken fishing
as the soulless sea, for all its prizes,
ran its gauntlet, and the boat
at last cast anchor.

And so the once proud boat
is now marooned, not moored;
not cast adrift,
but rather cast aground.

As time, and tide, go on
in the suffocating waters
of the River Deben,
the boat’s bereft,
with the anchor almost all that’s left.