HOLD BACK THE NIGHT

Living close to Bordeaux Bay is something I never take for granted.
The bay's character changes hourly with the rise and fall of tides, the arrival and departure of sea-birds and the constant activity of fishing-boats.
At low tide you can walk from one side to the other across an area larger than half a dozen rugby pitches. When the tide is high, with small boats bobbing, children paddling and a few hardy swimmers jumping from the granite sea-wall, it's surely one of the most beautiful places on this lovely island.
On winter nights, however, the bay can be a cold and inhospitable place but even then it possesses an irresistible, harsh beauty. 

NIGHT SEA

Bordeaux sea-wall, high tide lapping,

waves against cold granite slapping.

Black rain splinters fall like arrows

far out where the channel narrows;

cold waves roll in, growing darker,

past each lighted channel marker. 

In the bay, small boats, protected

by their anchor-lines connected

to safe bedrock, one another,

like an unborn to a mother,

rock like cradles balanced there, 
where icy wave meets frozen air.

Moonlight on water, spectral, pale, 
is like a massive vessel’s trail.

Beyond the wall, it leaves its wake. 
Below, dark waters boil and break.