Dusk at the Harbor

As dusk settles on the quiet harbor, The boats sway gently with the rhythm of the tide, Fishermen’s nets piled high, tangled dreams, While the sun sinks slowly, a fading ember, Painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

The lighthouse stands sentinel, tall and silent, Its beam slicing the emerging darkness, With a promise of safety, of home returned, As the stars wink into existence, And a new story unfolds with every ripple.

• George Mackay Brown