weathered planks stretch
into the mist, salt-worn
and stable. seagulls cry
overhead, unseen

boats come and go, their
ropes wrapping around cleats
for a moment of respite,
picturesque arrivals and departures

almost home, at a pause —
a place to breathe
between waves, to mend
sails torn by wind

when the fog lifts, they
depart. the harbor remains,
in the liminal space
between land and sea