They lumber in in early morning, their skeletal frames barely visible through the fog.
Like giant herons tiptoeing along the edge of the bay, watching more than moving, waiting to be called to action, to gently pick apart the bits and pieces of things floating in and out of the murky water.
They seem to work best in pairs, maybe its just their preference, to stand tall side by side, quietly watching over their stretch of the shore. Their hulking presence fades as the sun rises and lights up all that surrounds them.
They await the end of the day when once again they'll patiently watch over the water as the sun lights up the far hills transforming distant windows into flickering sparks that look more like cozy camp fires than portals into homes and offices. The cranes again become cranes, any resemblance to their cousins the heron fading into the evening.
The City Life agreed with you, Rich! Merry Christmas.
Fun fact. My first husband was a marine engineer and worked on container cranes for the longshoreman’s union.
Love this.