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Safe Harbor
Past midnight, and much darker than when I hit the pillow, I heard the channel marker appraising every billow whose overweighted crest collapsed with all the rest. Its single note, dividing the shallow from the deep, took on the task of guiding me out again toward sleep, loosing the stubborn painter. The port lights playing fainter, it braced me past the bold breakwater that takes the pulse of tides in pincer hold, a final perch for gulls. It tolled me seaward, till it too, becalmed, held still and the unfathomed sea again made room for me.