Harbour

It’s passing offshore

Silhouetted against the far peaks

Everything seems to be some shade of blue or grey

Except for the lightening silver of tossing waves

It’s some kind of warship from the naval base

Keeping the peace and doing a fine job

Since it’s nothing if not peaceful here today

Freshmowed lawns roll from road to rocks

Under the snapping flag that illuminates the breeze

The park is littered with dedicated benches

Each plaque a shorthand biography in brass

Seagulls cry and play in freshening gusts

Childs play for them after yesterday’s gale

I inhale virgin air off the Pacific

Cleansed by the long journey from that further shore

Dandelions and daisies cross stitch the lawn

One lone sailboat heels into the wind, making time

A young mother with a sports stroller airs out her child

Barely noticing the view as she texts and talks

And stares at the phone clutched talisman tight

The gulls upswell into a formation of imprecision

Looking for balance points where they hover briefly

Then it’s slip, slide and goodbye

In the parking lot cars come and go

Most doors never open

As this seems to be a place to wolf down a quick meal

Or a quick smoke

The warship slows and heads for port

Belching smoke as she powers down

I sit and watch a crow waddle across a grassy corner

At first tentative and hesitant it scares up worms to deftly swallow

Stopping occasionally in a prime location to feast

Like a teenager with a side of fries

A swathe of slate grey clouds push forward

Inner city sidewalk clearing in their youthful bluster

So I leave the bench and spring behind

When I turn to look, the crow has gone

While the gulls continue their resonant entreaties to the wind

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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