The moon went for a swim amongst the harbour boats

Yellow brushed against the slate grey surface of the water

Giving depth and tone to the ripples atop the high tide

The onshore breeze seemed to mould and remould

The undulation, with a sculptures eye and craftsman’s knife

 

Silhouetted by the melting moon, dolphins and seals

Dance amongst the moonbeams in an aerial ballet

Some seagulls shout their approval at there grace

Whilst others with a loud anguished cry

Shouted out to sea, urging the fishing boats return

 

Groups of lads huddle together, like little sea urchins

Clinging to the edge of the harbour wall

They sling out their crab lines amongst the seaweed

Pulling them in again hoping to bring in the largest

In a friendly wager to win a bag of steaming hot chips

 

One by one from lichen covered stone cottage lights came on

Like a pearl necklace around the anchorage, with an iridescent glow

On the wharf lies the ‘Mariners Rest’, where trawler men drink thanks

Raising their classes to Neptune for a safe return and singing shanties

What stories do the lines on their weathered faces leave untold?

©Phil Golding 09/08