Category Archives: Poetry

Blessing the Boats

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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.

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