Morning Port
The bell lends its rhythmic voice to the rising of the breeze. The docks awake to the hues of morning crawling across the harbor waters. Dark depths, lucid ebony under the siege of first light. A war is fought, but lost by the night.
In the dissipating murky mists, a dock hand takes the leads of a ship in for port. The Harbor Master stirs to life the melting pot of the quay with booming orders that gets the ant work underway.
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