For today’s happiness poetry we have guest poet Lauren Meyers who’s poem First Light has the quiet and intimate beauty of a still life. No photo this time, the poem paints it’s own picture.
The inevitable smell of dawn at the harbor
Low-tide and diesel fuel
Hits me like a stiff drink
The air pungent with anticipation
I can hardly contain myself
Approaching the dock
The small fishing vessels are lined up like soldiers waiting to receive their orders.
Tethered to their slips
Shoulder to shoulder
They bump one another disturbing the greasy motor fuel
That finds its way to the waters’ surface
Swirling around paisley
The fisherman begin to arrive
Big, burly hands clutch Styrofoam coffee cups and balance them on the gunwale.
The boats are readied.
Like coffins, lobster traps are stacked high and secured
Trawling nets folded just right
To open like a sail when thrust out into the sea
Ice for the days catch is buried below
And what there is to eat for lunch is scattered about
As the navigation radios chirp out knots and nautical miles
The boats pull out of their posts -single file past the no wake signs bouy
Gasoline and engine noise overwhelm the gulls calls
They approach the grandeur of open water through the narrow bay
It is stunning to behold