Buoy Bell

An anchored bell
sounds noon
above a bluff of
fishermen, California seals,
and children that won't wear
wetsuits for years.

He brought me here,
this Lord of the winds, to know
the twenty steps from East Street
to West in a harbor town.

I count the boats
easier than waves;
crab traps, buoys,
mechanical foghorn
in a Mecca like song
to be stilled, and know,
the call to be a fisher
of men, comes with boots.