Jeff Bagato
Joy of Doggerland
Not every wizard
can foretell the fate
of land:
the water rises, the sky

The last swamp
lies in the setting sun;
fishing lanes
and camp gates
find their way to
the sea

The northern floats
of doom doomed
to repeat this watery
way of forgetting—
lost iron, lost
reeds, lost dragons—
until they rise
again in
neighboring man