Call of a Sea Town

Come! Like a child along the darkening canyon of my streets . . . where lanterns hang above the fishing nets. Come when boats barnacle the bay and children dare the ramp beyond their bedtime . . . storing the landwash smells of tar, and fish, and seaweed forever.

Memory booms in over the rocks sibilant with salt spray splash and boatman's gossip.

Come when a star pops out like a lighthouse-keeper just remembering glow for journeyings home . . .