Morning Watch Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

The morning watch begins early
with coffee and a smoke topside.
Four o'clock on the ninth day
of November-
first morning of our last voyage before lay-up.

Soon the fog lifts to reveal
rust-orange deck plates
and coiled hawsers like snakes
writhing lazily around bollards.
Ruby-red first light glows
on pilothouse.

Throbbing engines below decks pound
and pulse like a beating heart.

Then we sail into deep dark water.