It’s a tall sailing-ship on the ocean,

Still, anchored, waiting – not to be broken –

Or smashed on rocks – run aground.

Or, imaginably, if I listen closely – beyond the hush –

Seawater claps the vessel’s hull and waves swoosh on the shore.

Sensible sea captain, dutiful crew, waits – no rush …

The sun is sinking, a gull calls, and the reef makes no score.

Explorers or pirates? We’ll see …

I write in my log book – a note to me –

“Tomorrow – build lighthouse for sea dogs.”

But in the morning, there is no sea, no ship and no fog.