- by Jon Moore
Downtown has it’s own
Early morning crowd
Gather for a coffee
Things quiet more than loud
Wharf Road at it’s end
There sight one pelican
Soaring out of reach
Floats eyeballing the beach
Silence broke
Above the fog
Descending jet
Falls like a log
Mist so thick
A knife would do
Cutting the channel
Cormorants race through
Alas, again
Another jet plane
Dropping it roars
Melting fog into rain
Right here today on the Bo Bay
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