The Probes

Wind in the microphone.Rigging.Engines.Gulls.A ship movingbetween the cranes.Two people tappingdifferent versionsof the same rhythm.Neither agrees.Both sound right.Playback:mostly wind.Then something underneath.Low.Too widefor the little speaker.A crane turns inland.Stopped recording.Watched instead.Another cranestayed facing the water.For a momentthe whole harbourlooked less like a portand more likesomething listening.The thought felt absurd.The feeling did not.