She waits as dawn approaches... tales of the sea, and the gale winds approaching. Gently tossed to and fro, she cools her heels in the folk lore of the morning. They will come, of that she is sure. Yea, she hangs her hat on it.
And when she has been spent for the day, as the gloaming looms in the distance, tis there she scatters her pinings to the wind. The morrow has quickly cast her into the dusky shadows ahead, where she will rock, gently tossed to and fro, awaiting her next venture out to sea...
