Dockworkers on strike, the ocean gray
and choppy. Wind whips the rigging
of a sailing ship with its weathered hag –
figurehead once lovely in a gentler
age. What Time weaves of us. A line
from memory flits to places farther
inland, when you were younger, every-
thing graced with light: the rain,
the chickweed, and the burdock leaf.
Tomorrow, another ship comes in.