Ships at Malvan, circa 1522

A butterfly flaps over the creek and touches the sea
Boats float towards the island attracting gulls who circle wildly
The rows cream the water taking salt that later dries
Years trickle down the forehead of fisherfolk reaching the end of winter
The coconut groves hum a song of shadows
On the horizon dolphins jump occasionally
Distracting us from the ships that are slowly arriving with plague

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