A tug strains, its rubber nose crushed
Its stern dips
The port is waking
A chain clangs
There, the hipped roof of a warehouse, a vast repository for wool
The windows are broken; there is no wool
Giant red brick buildings face the sea – Royal Insurance declares its case
One building is six storeys: stout and ruby red
Inside, shiny with wear, are the rails on which floor stacks slid
The terns are fishing now
A metal door creaks
A man is mending nets
The water behind the tug boils:
Push, push
Sliding across a reddening horizon, a wedge of steel
Love this, John, the smells, the squawks, the slap of sea and hull about it. Reminds me of the harbour at Oamaru.
Thanks for reading.
water and rock, chain and wool, nuggety tug boats, insurance; visually evocative.