Safe Mooring Imigrant creek
In hush of dawn, the white boat sways,
Moored where reeds and stillness laze.
Its hull aglow with morning light,
A sentinel of dreams held tight.
It longs to taste the ocean's brine,
To ride the swell, the salt, the shine
With master poised, hand on the wheel,
To chase the wind, to dance, to feel.
But for now, in the estuary's grace,
It waits in peace, a silent place.
by Rod Ellis