Sailors Cove

hardy fishermen climb into their sailing ships gilding away, looking as vulnerable as ants on a wet log the silent cove looks on, unconcerned. Unhurried onlookers’ murmurs merge with sea’s imagination the north wind has not come down full force yet. The ships hang out in the middle of the bay, As if their inhabitants are exchanging phone numbers I watch, enjoying the easy spirit of the night.