Watery Sunrise

Boats billow smoke, shrouded in white haze

as fire glistens against the murky

indigos, teals, beiges, and ambers

of morning’s melodies.

Fishermen stalk salty

reds of first light, navigating

mist at sunray's glow.

Pray for slippery prey

to catch, to sell, to feed.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repent.

Strokes undulate below ships and shadows.

What lurks beneath croaking floorboards, anyway?

Cast reflections christen the cockcrow

while clouds waltz against water’s oils.

White peach juice drips,

sticky highlights of a blued morn,

concealing what sleeps behind the horizon

and the masts of dawn.

What masts the dawn, anyway?