A sailor’s sea-song frames landing as a gift repaid with gratitude

Evidence

‘The harbor smells of cooking-fires.My wife will be at the door.My children will hear my voicebefore they see my face.Sea, you have been kind.Sea, I owe you nothing.Sea, here is my last song.Tomorrow I plant my feet on land.’ — , A Year of World Stories, 1064

Categorization

• FICTION: A compact seed for a story or poem voiced by a returning sailor, capturing the moment of landfall as a transaction of gratitude with the sea.