The pilots and the tugs dance to the tune of the mighty merchant ships, Sunday or no.
Choreographed by the laconic vhf voice, of Port Control. Eagle eyed, in their eyrie.
In the port de plaisance, northern european swallows alight. Resting, on their summer migration, south. Belgians, Germans, Dutch, Finns, Poles and Brits flock.
On shore leave. Stretching their legs along the riverside boulevard. Watching the Seine empty into the sea.
Taking stock, from beneath the shade of a tree. Eyes and ears alert, for a fair tide and a following breeze.
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