The day is fresh
Long before the sun yawns into the morning
The sound of bells clanging
Ropes whipping the mast into shape
Creaking of the old boats
A feint smell of lobster
Rises to meet me as the zip
Rasps towards my chin
Along the comfortable material
Of the gilet
Can the ocean be trusted?
No more than the weather
No more than a wild animal
However tamed they appear
Domesticated the ocean will never be
I climb down the wooden ladder
Into the trusty boat
I pause in the moment
Feet sensing the security of
My familiar friend
Stormy seas we have seen
Yet she welcomes me back
I sense her sigh with relief
A voiceless, palpable release
As I hoist the sail
Pushing away from the harbour wall
We both know
This is not the place for us
A gull invites us to follow
So we nod along
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