Thoughts From A Foggy Nanaimo Harbour Night

Fog horns moan
Amid the boats bobbing in Departure Bay,
Sounding, beckoning, warning,
Those listening to the inner harbour air.

Resonating,
Surreal echoes,
Wave past me in the still mist.
Wandering as abandoned children,
Or broken lovers who’ve lost their way,

Cautiously approaching
The pier’s logged precipice
I stare
Into the salty forbidding white bubbling foam,
Exploring, seeking, foraging
For meaning in this quay.

Nothing emerges.
No hints
No insights
Rise from the dank damp black darkness.

Undeterred,
I roll up my collar
Stabbing my shoulder
Into the breaking light
Of another misty mid Island dawn.

by Charlie Galan

Comments (1)

Beautiful imagery! I was transported to the mid island at dawn!