Considering Pier 70's Rebirth

Mustard grass, wild sage, and dill weed fight for a toehold

They used
to build ships here,
some for war 
some for commerce.

Historic Pier 70 in The Dogpatch neighborhood of San Francisco.

They used 
to employ thousands,
occassionally tens of thousands,
cutting and grinding steel,
pounding rivets
and welding seams, 
firing forges and stoking furnaces,
tending blowers, pumps, and tanks,
building steam for the power plant.

Once their shift 
was done,
they'd scurry off 
to The Dogpatch Saloon
for one or two
then on home,
some up the hill, 
to rest their bones.

Now the weathered 
old waterfront
is rusted and quiet,
windows busted out,
doors boarded up,
chain-link fence
fencing in most lots,
except for a few 
converted to sparse
artists' lofts.

Developers chip away
at the edges,
working to bring life back
to the skeletal old structures
and empty lots,
envisioning a brighter 
and bustling new day.

Mustard grass,
wild sage, and dill weed
sprout and fight for a toehold
among the rocks and dirt
and scattered debris
in vacant parcels 
all pining for attention.

Massive cranes idlely hover
next to smokeless smoke stacks 
poking above abandoned buildings,
silently harkening back 
to days gone bye.

It's mostly
a ghostly place,
housing a few new pockets
of commerce anchoring
the pier's promising rebirth. 

Offices and shops,
restaurants and bars
are starting to thrive,
but they won't replace 
the throng once required 
to fill those old manufacturing jobs.

Maybe DOGE
can come sprinkle 
some of its pixie dust on it
and magically make it great again,
greater than we've every seen!