Nestled snugly in the harbour
They bob on rising tide
Tugging at the anchor lines
Craft manicured with pride
Taste of salt and smell of kelp
Embrace and swallow me
As I move away from her
She calls mournfully to me
Stallions of the winter storms
Crash softly on the shore
Raging power of winter reigns
Now summer calm once more
White horses running at a trot
Race homeward from the sea
Passing now the dancing hooves
She calls once more to me
Trampling on the golden sand
Hoards gather in the sun
Wooden boards full of voices
Excitement on the run
Splish sploshing in the shallows
Small faces filled with glee
And as I gracefully move past
She calls once more to me
Broad strokes upon the canvas
Bring life to parchment pale
An easel perched upon it’s stand
Artist’s fingers small and frail
Capturing the sight and feel
Of winged fishers diving free
Moving from the painter’s view
She calls once more to me
Out past the pointing headland
Old fishermen go trawling
For the catch of silver darlings
Calm horizons ever sprawling
Below the rippled surface
Shoals glide glistening and free
And as the boats turn homeward
She yells gleefully to me
Drift back toward the shelter
Of the solid harbour wall
Returning slowly on the tide
Yearning for her call
She hovers high above
As I bounce against the quay
At each and every dawn
She calls once more for me
© Fergus Martin
2012
