Moonrise Over the Working Tide

A steel‑backed giant glides through the hush of twilight, its hull catching the last warm breath of the fading sun. The moon hangs low and luminous, a pale lantern guiding the vessel along its mirrored path. Water softens every sound, turning industry into something almost tender. On the distant shore, quiet buildings watch the passage, as if witnessing a ritual older than commerce—light, motion, and the patient pull of the tides. The world feels briefly suspended, held between the day that was and the night about to bloom.