Lights from a Pier

From here, I can see many things at night
Sitting out long enough
If I am willing to.
I can see all the way to heaven
And how indistinguishable it is
From the sea and its darkness
Except as the whitewash rubs
A little of it away.

I can see lights from the pier
Where the sinks are, for cleaning fish,
And a few ropes for tethering crab-traps,
Where I stood earlier
As the high-pitched children kicked
At the casual waves, and I can still see
The long white sleep-blown hair of the old
As they walked below me.