HARBOR from the short story/flash fiction/essay collection:
Choptank Blues and Other Stories
"I hovered near the scows, rusted out, slimy with their catch, snugged beam-to-beam, rocking as raw wood scraped and whittled away the remains of ancient paint. Working boats, old, worn, prideful.
The men worked quickly, handing over crates, muted laughter as a blue launched and skittered to freedom, a muttered patois of southern and Negro, unintelligible. I crouched at the edge, hopeful.
The tall man, grayed out, whip thin, sing-songed ‘sister’ and the others laughed and remarked at me—nut-brown, flaxen-haired—and bid me sit a spell. I scrambled and slipped, and a rough hand steadied and eased me onto the rail.
I took out my notebook and began to write."