An Unfamiliar Morning
The sky over the unfamiliar harbor I reached toward morning was still asleep, and only the lighthouse kept its post to the very end.
The sky over the unfamiliar harbor I reached toward morning was still asleep, and only the lighthouse kept its post to the very end.
A harbor makes me think of the dawn market. Until the lights come on one by one and the dark lifts, in that interval the lighthouse and the market wait for the same light. I've seen a morning like that too.