The half-moon's reflection slips and darts tirelessly
Around the same small section of repeating ripples
As if a dog trying to ensnare its own elusive tail

Beyond the sagging sand bar
Bristled with a patchy head of reeds
The sound of endless foam attacks
And retreats beating upon the beach
Smooth into a continuous motor drone
Accompanied by the closer serenity of
The river's ebb onto the apathetic shore

Along the facing esplanade a row
Of stern cold buildings huddle and bury
Themselves into the blackness of the hill
Like shivering chicks to their plump mother
Guarded by occasional tall street lamps that
Send gnarled streaks of yellow light dribbling
Down the oily-glass surface of the river mouth
Like too much paint down a spoiled canvas

The light from a solitary taxi ferrying its
Late night passengers from the closing pub
Slides past the dormant and diminutive dwellings
Its low engine hum soaks into the sea’s
And slowly dies into the frost night
Followed by the upstart needy shrills 
Of quarreling seagulls floating listlessly
On the seemingly thick tar of the night river