Salt wind writes on weathered grain
Tide clock ticks in barnacle time
He stands where the mooring chain
Keeps the deep in rhythm and rhyme
Morning light hits Fucus fronds
Bladder wrack swells in tidal ponds
Sailor lights his last cigarette
Ash falls where the ropes are set
Pier timber holds what the tide forgot
Iron bolts drink the salt he brought
His boots trace each splintered knot
Pier timber remembers what water taught
Balanus rings count the years
Barnacle cups catch wind shears
He leans where the paint peeled bare
Coat collar snaps in salt air
Pier timber holds what the tide forgot
Iron bolts drink the salt he brought
His boots trace each splintered knot
Pier timber remembers what water taught
Ulva sheets on lower rungs
Sea lettuce greens where the current clings
He speaks to the Mytilus beds
Mussel beards filter what he said
Pier timber holds what the tide forgot
Iron bolts drink the salt he brought
His boots trace each splintered knot
Pier timber remembers what water taught
Storm season strips the upper deck
Winter gales demand respect
But spring brings spores to colonize
Life returns in patient guise
Evening falls on Chthamalus zone
Little barnacles claim the stone
Sailor turns for home alone
Pier timber stands salt in its bone
Pier timber holds what the tide forgot
Iron bolts drink the salt he brought
His boots trace each splintered knot
Pier timber remembers what water taught
Now the grain sings what the wave brought
Salt wind writes on weathered grain
Tide clock ticks in barnacle time
