Joining 'Kildare'

This is the first poem in the 'Kildare' series.


The dawn led day still deeper into winter,
as biting northerly winds drove rain hard
across the port in chill, translucent shrouds,
that veiled the dormant hulks beside the piers,
laden with cheerless cargoes of iron ore.

Crane grabs dipped within their open holds
to pluck the piles of red metallic ore.
Like hungry, raucous crows, they seemed to feed,
preying on some drawn and rotting carcass,
leaving nought but steel and ribs exposed.

My new world of conveyors, cranes, and ships
was painted dull, in red-black monochrome,
with a sodden slurry of fines of ore,
that fouled my skin, the ground, and rusting steel,
its tireless industry jarred my senses.

I shrank, shivering from cold and nerves,
deeper in my coat as grime-covered men
lowered the gangway to the muddy pier.
I climbed on deck, unknowing and unknown,
to join ‘Kildare’, bound for God-knows-where.

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