The Fog
For men of the sea, and those who wait ….
The fog crept in, silent and damp.
House lights blacked out,
No sign of street lamp…
The full moon invisible,
Just a pale, eerie glow,
While far out to sea,
The big ship steamed slow.
Lone sailor on watch,
Eyes sweeping the deck,
Just blackness beyond
The breakers’ white fleck.
His ears hearing only
The ships’ lonely call,
No glimmer of light
From boat big or small.
A woman at home waited,
Cursing her fright,
Her husband out fishing
The dark seas that night.
The sea’s in their blood,
The waves and the sky…
Their women can’t change them
And no longer try.
Way out in the channel,
Tossed back from bow wave,
The small boat went down
To a watery grave.
None saw the trawler
As it tried to escape,
The seaman on watch
Just heard a loud scrape.
The ship turned and searched
Throughout the long night,
But found only wreckage
By dawn’s early light.
No sign of the skipper
Or crewman on board
Or lives they’d spent fishing
As best as they could.
The sea was their master
And remain so, it would.
- John Mikkelsen
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