The Loneliness of Dawn

The Loneliness of Dawn

Night, dragging its feet, fades to a dismal grey
As melancholy mists drift across the water,
Wispy, insubstantial, masterless,
Entwining the rigging of grimy vessels,
Swaying at anchor in the litter-strewn bay

Gulls, dull, off-white, like the light,
Making no sound, heads buried in feather,
Awaiting a day of squabble and raucousness
Swooping on entrails and ketchup soaked chips
Finding old men to spatter and fright

The air, lifeless, heavy, chill, damp,
Coating the quay in a sweat of dew.
Enshrouding trucks, steamed-up, snoring,
Waiting in line for the darkened ferry
To open its bowels, drop a rusting ramp.

And all is still,
Man and beast,
Flora and fauna,
Only the mist moves
And the lonely earth.