Blessing the Boats

Whitby harbour

Whitby harbour

A smoke of gulls
trails the red trawler,
spinning, dipping,
wings tipping
in a grey sky.

Landward of the sea wall,
seeming tall
above the harbour,
the bishop stands,
cope and mitre
brighter than the day.
Arms raised,
praise the Lord,
bless the boats
and all who fish a living
from the sea.

The red trawler dips
and pitches
towards the harbour.
Tide out, keels bare
to the salt air,
boats built for fine days
loll against silt cushions.

Voices join,
thoughts turn from ice cream
to those in peril
on the sea.

The trawler coasts home
with a catch of crabs,
nudging the quay,
home from the sea.
Gulls cries
scratch the harmony of hymns.
Sinews stretch,
boxes swing,
the quayside runs
with captured sea.


About Alexa

I have just started writing again after a break of some years. I write mostly non-fiction, although I love story writing. My first Steampunk novel has been sent into the big wide world to make its fortune (or not). I hate mowing lawns, love growing flowers, and spend a fair bit of time shifting mole-hill detritus from the lawn to the flower borders. I have a degree in English Literature and Theology, and a passion for science that I wish I'd discovered when I was young enough to choose it as a career path. I have two sites on Wordpress. 'Born-again sceptic' - my personal views on the science/religion debate, and 'Writing and other stuff' an eclectic mix of things that interest me ( the title says it all).

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