4 am

The darkness wraps everyone,
thick enough to lose the horizon.

Poles lie on the ground,
baskets breathe beside boots.

Wind combs the brine with a cold hand,
and the sheds click—wood settling,
metal remembering yesterday’s sun.

The workers rest and wait,
eyes turned to where dawn will open—
a thin seam of pewter first,
then a warm, soft glow.