The boats are slipping past me in the mist

Low breathing past the pier on glassiness

I hug the air around me like a fur

First light is still a dream of weightlessness

The fishermen lean out towards the shoals

/Their faces, soft as moss, try to catch the flash of souls

They pad along the pier like careful cats

/

Rubbing up against the velvet cold

Then I see you, as if floating, through the fog

Some say that those we love are never gone

And like a dream that floats forever on sleeps tide

I’m warmed by by you in some soft seabirds song