her bow knew the sea,
foam beckoned on harbor wallÂ
sea curls stretched to horizon,
yet land restrained
docked for repair,
a boatsman’s pleasure
scraping hull
refreshing blue
his toughened hands
worked and manipulated,
she responded by gaining dignity,
freedom of wave
that sensation of roll awaits,
a new season of trawling
and lobster potsÂ
and her yearning ends