Marina Dark

Rocking
To wakefulness
Dancing gold and
Silver reflections on ceiling
Dewdrops having settle through window
Wet my cheek, thrilling early rising

Stepping
Softly stepping
To not disturb
Companions at my leaving
Slipping on hard worked deck
Breathing in the crisp early morning

Shining
Dock lights
Mirrored off Smooth
Dark and friendly water
Off still sleeping fishermen’s marina
Before morning has chosen to break

Coughing
Seal breaks
Gently, water’s glass
Pressing arced ripples out
To caress slick boat sides
Before man’s day, on docks begins

Treading
Lightly on
Grey wooden planks
So not to cover
Each solemn, morning dock sound
And know the marina, before leaving


Ken Goree