Look To the Harbor

I sat on the rocks By the New Bedford docks And waited for his boat to return But the sun went to hiding Bringing ever bad tidings And a sea where last lessons are learned My time spent in vain For not even a plane Could find a boat headed out of that storm As the sea roiled upward My hopes were dragged under Which my soul was to curse and then scorn And the streets emptied out Churches packed and devout As the old ones did swear and rebuke The women all cried With new legends reprised As the Parson read words in tribute Till at the church by the dock From whence he had left From its window I yelled through the tears… “Look to the harbor this night, the mourning over, I sight: —My Daddy’s Gaff Schooner is here” (Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)