Late morning

the sun high

above the harbour

all is quiet

except for the ferry

that docks every hour

to collect the tourists

and the occasional

morning boat

tugging slowly to it’s destination.

The sea is calm

and glinting softly

and there is nothing turbulent,

no breeze or murmur,

no mention of the way

the world really is,

so you know you must

try to keep it somehow,

and watch it closely

and hold it for all the moments

that won’t be this;

The sweet industry

of the harbour,

It’s ferry and it’s boats,

The waiting captain

and idle walkers,

talking busily in the middle

of their  lives.