First light bore the wiling of winter’s mist

Morning’s abounding of gauzy moorage

All but silent save for the gentle groan

Of boats in the nudge of their fingerfloat

Companion’s slight weave on ruffled waters

Mastheads towering as tallgrass spindles

A loan crow’s vigil on power lines hung

In lofty suspension from pole to pole

Waves tumble ashore from a newborn sea

Tide’s wake in the rise, rejuvenation

Fishermen clamber, spirits in the mist

Gillnetters await their hurried boarding

Brown-speckled seagulls in rooftop chatter

Fragment the silence of dawn’s arrival

In the distance a lighthouse fog horn sounds

First vessel Chimera plies the channel

© Don MacIver 2013; All Rights Reserved