Anchor Watch - Poem by Michael Pruchnicki
The morning watch begins early
with coffee and a smoke on deck
four o'clock on the last day
the first day of a long voyage north.
Soon the fog lifts to reveal
rusted deck plates
and coiled hawser lines like wire snakes
writhing silently around bollards.
First light gleams
on deckhouse and metal hatch covers
as throbbing engines pound
and pulse far below.
And we sail into deep dark water.
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