A Harbor poem

 Sonrisa Hears The Harbor       By  Claire Mora Parsons

A concert
of chimes and clanks and claps
of the ropes beating on the mast,
tarps billowing,
hulls thudding against the dock,
orchestrated by the wind.
Gulls click their bright beaks
and call out cries, laughs, or sighs.
Curtains of minnows undulate
beneath the surface of the emerald sea.
Everything white seems soft.
The sun is white.
The clouds
are sails in the sky.
My pencil is dull and it makes
all my words quiet, and tender,
and light enough to be lifted
off the page
by a breath.

Muscles are clustered to the underbellies
of the gray wooden docks,
barnacles teeth the pillars of the boardwalk.
The water is speaking. The water
is speaking.
It is cradled by banks
of jagged rock
and it muses with the wind.
The boats sway subtly,
the harbor sings the day away.