Look To The Harbor

I sat on the rocks

By the New Bedford docks

And waited for his boat to return


But the sun went to hiding

Bringing ever bad tidings

And a sea where last lessons are learned


My time spent in vain

For not even a plane

Could find a boat headed out of that storm


As the sea roiled upward

My hopes were dragged under

Which my soul was to curse and then scorn


And the streets emptied out

Churches packed and devout

As the old ones did swear and rebuke


The women all cried

With new legends reprised

As the Parson read words in tribute


Till at the church by the dock

From whence he had left

From its window I yelled through the tears…


“Look to the harbor this night,

  the mourning over, I sight: 

     —My Daddy’s Gaff Schooner is here”


(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

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