Cargo cranes bow toward the tide,
Apologizing to the horizon.
The docks loosen their grip on distance,
Learning to welcome stillness.
Shipping containers open like books,
Filled with libraries of rainfall.
Workers inventory constellations,
Cataloging patient night skies.
The harbor unions with the marsh again,
Negotiating contracts with herons.
Profit is measured in returning tides,
And dividends arrive as migrating light.