Reaching Igoumenitsa

01:00 Tuesday morning--
outside three lights appear
in the darkness
where before were only black
hints of land, no stars
the utter dark of Ionian winter.

I blink at the lights:
but they are real, not reflection.
We pull silently into land
the ferry plying its massive course
amid the calm waters of the headlands
where I have been before.

Ahead the harbour lights appear:
yellow sodium, shadows and concrete waste.
Six cars huddle, some trucks,
as though seeking warmth in the winter night.

The ferry turns,
Spinning on its own length silently, inexorably;
anchors fall in muffled roar,
engines reverse,
in a moment the rear doors will open
as we reach Igoumenitsa