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)