In Noyo Harbor’s calm, where boats convene,
I row amidst the fleet, a tranquil scene.
The morning mist gives way to gentle light,
As seagulls cry and swoop in graceful flight.

The fishermen prepare for ocean’s yield,
Their nets and lines, the secrets they’ll reveal.
My oars dip soft in water’s mirror clear,
Each stroke a melody I love to hear.

Amongst the boats that tell of briny tales,
I find my peace, where salty air prevails.