for T & B
The year was ending where the lakes meet the sea.
Small preparations in the weatherboard; fish and lemon
with someone else’s Australian pop collection
as chalk-white boats headed out
through the sunroom louvers.
Adorned peninsula. Chained gates and laurel hedges.
Climbing down to the fishing village, last drinks
and last light disappeared from the lawn
of the waterfront hotel. The seasonal town
had slipped from its mooring posts.
Such unperturbed companions, surveying
empty yards along the street. Claiming
the moonlit lime of the bowling green
to watch stars from plastic blades.
The long night loitered at shop windows
then reached back into the inlet.
It wound the boardwalk,
a slow reverie along black water
to the vacant resort pool; uninvited
and treading beneath its chlorine skin.
As midnight fireworks hammered
wry shapes into the bush land,
we made our assembly to the spectacle
for the crowd over the hill.
New Year’s Eve
1 August 2017