1023

September Sunset

The tide is at its lowest and the light

On this September evening is at odds

With Katrina's tail, which aids the flight

Of wind-surfers, but leaves the sky in nods

Of gently moving clouds and deepening blue.

Mud flats lie at ease and private yachts

Stuck toy-like on their keels await their cue

To bob when tidal rushes surge in knots.

But for now, the turning of the tide,

Against the twilight, brings a sudden calm

As if the gusting evening winds had lied

And all is bluster but no deep harm.

          Here upon the terrace, my pint glass

          Is half full, as the moments gently pass.

Brian Hick September 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 25.10.23