a big boat is in

there used to be ore boats
that came off Lake Erie
all the way into our little harbor
polite soldiers that dumped red iron ore
did an about-face and left
but times have changed
ore docks are gone

now a large vessel will creep silently into the mouth of our little river
dock alongside the plant
bringing lime stone to crush into dust
it pulls straight in
happy tugs help

just a low, town block away from us
the ships blast their horn
usually after midnight

so close, what a set of thermo explosive lungs,
the bellow splits the heavens
echoes into buildings, over roof tops
bouncing in low gargantuan, profound - window, wall and shelf shaking tones
as if the beast of New York harbor has come to roost here in Pumpkinville

so thunderous the call to people
who walk or drive down to see
(Hear Me! I am in your harbor!))
and we don't ever have to pay extra
for the excitement
to stand quivering
there on the river side
waiting in awe of the giant, breathless
as if it could pounce and eat us all

it unloads
then slips away
the monster is gone