I walked down to the seawall by the river today
to watch the festival ships arrive.
They had an air of ease
as if the city had its underwear off
and was waiting for them with a tight summer skirt
and a knowing half smile.
A tall ship lead the fleet
with a proud hull gleaming white and trimmed sails.
The bridges stood up to salute
as people watched it ease up to the wall
tie a mooring line to a great iron bollard
and sniff the breeze for the scent of perfume on taught skin.