Harbor Hush

A blue-gray hush, the morning wakes,

No golden spill, no dawn that breaks.

The harbor breathes, a quiet sigh,

As gentle waves drift slow and shy.

A heron waits with patient grace,

A silent watcher, time and space.

The world still slumbers, unaware,

While we stand wrapped in muted air.

No fire burned across the sky,

No crimson streaks to catch the eye.

Yet here, among the soft and still,

We found a beauty, cold yet real.

The shutter clicks, the laughter stays,

A meeting held in quiet haze.

And though the sun refused to shine,

The warmth was ours—a light divine.

We’ll gather once again, and then,

Chase the light where morning bends.

But even in the silver gloom,

Friendship paints the world in bloom.

This morning, a few of us from the Olympic Photo Club met at the Port Angeles Harbor, hoping for a spectacular sunrise. Instead, we got a quiet, blue-gray morning—soft, subdued, and a little sleepy. No fiery sky, no golden light, just the hush of the harbor and a lone heron keeping watch. I wasn’t feeling great and almost didn’t come, but I’m glad I did. I wore a mask to keep my germs to myself, but even from a bit of a distance, the company was good, and the vibes were positive. Sometimes, it’s not about the light in the sky but the moments shared in the quiet. This poem is a reflection of that—a reminder that beauty isn’t always in the grand, expected things but in the simple ones. Looking forward to the next meet-up, where we’ll chase the light again, no matter what the sky decides to give us.