Coastal Town

by Chris Powici

a big October moon rises from the deep bay
shows its hurt, radiant face to the first stars
and a whooper swan looking to land

down here, just the earth up to its usual tricks –

a sea wind, an autumn tide swaying
the bladderwrack on a spit of beach;
the glad serious faces of boys
leaning on the bike-park wall

a woman watches a herring gull
flap and cry from the kirk roof
opens an old door, goes inside

afterwards, only the seaweed-scented air
streetlamps like small wet moons
some boys, somewhere, laughing
bike wheels spinning in the dusk