The water pitched and danced
before the clacking ferry
which churned through
unaffected by its heaving,
Light withdrew to shine from distant pinpoints,
Waves tended toward black

And when, around the chop
into the harbor
the boat slowed,
my temples pulsed in echo
of the wind’s pounding
and I was suddenly ravenous
and longed for the yellow kitchen
and its round table

Home loomed up
in the comforting darkness
around the lighted dock
Crickets confirmed
I had arrived.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 23, 2014