|Look at those empty ships||I'm parked here||Hello freighter,|
|floating north||out of work all year.||Hello tanker.|
|between south-running ice||No hurry now||Welcome, welcome,|
|like big tulips||and sleep badly.||to New York.|
|in the Narrows||But I'm self-employed.|
|under the Verrazano||My new job's|
|toward the city harbor.||to wave them in.|
Milton Kessler, 1930-2000.
I've always liked this poem, but it seems more poignant now.