the only sound is the temporary quiet of a port at night
like a held breath waiting to be released
It is dreaming of the dawn
and the yawning hustle-bustle of still sleepy dock-men and early morning sailors
Dreaming of ships as big as islands, and greedy white seabirds
The port is dreaming all this as it lays asleep
in the cold black fingers of the sea

AcB 02.23.01