The Moorings at the End of the Garden

I rise with the sun this morning.
Our cat is waiting at the back door.

I pull on my wellington boots,
unlock the door and let her out.

I follow her across dew-soaked grass,
grown long, studded with forget-me-nots,

down to the back gate. She slips
though its slats while I stand and admire

boats bobbing ungainly on wind-kissed water,
ghosts in cloud-filtered morning light.

They creak and groan with the swell,
an other-worldly, tethered dance, tugging ropes taught,

clinking rigging, setting tarpaulin a-flutter,
eager to be among reeds, below trees, free on open water.

Kim M. Russell, 6^th August 2026

For Denise’s Six Sentence Story Prompt this week, I have rewritten a poem I wrote for NaPoWriMo last April so that it consisted of six sentences. The prompt word, ‘slip’ was given last Sunday, “to use in a story, next scene, soc or portion of poetry in exactly 6 sentences.” The rules are easy to follow: Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.