David Green: ‘The Beach in Autumn’ and ‘No Finer Day’

The Beach in Autumn

The beach in autumn
Has space between the clumps
Of bags and scattered towels,
An ambient warmth and coolness
Below the sand.
The umbrellas and well-oiled flesh
Are gone, along with surf boats
And Ray Bans,
Though some still moon their
Arses to the breeze in light softer
By degrees.
A low sun above tide line kelp
Makes the ocean more opaque
And Winter seems already here
As dimmer hues hug the cape
And milky light falls along the strand.
But wait …
Slow arms slap beyond the waves,
Kids dig and squeal along the shore,
A woman toes the brine,
Shivers and draws back then
Child-like splashes in
For summer’s warmth yet lingers
In the shallows where she bathes.

David Green

No Finer Day

No finer day
Than a ferry ride
To Manly under a cool bright sun

Get some sea air
Into drought-dry lungs,
The smell of salt

And the sea dance
Across the blue and sun-washed straights
Remembering the small joy

Of the poor man’s cruise
Over the lapping sea-road
Where a thousand ships

Could ride with ease,
Lazy yachts unfurled in
The softest breeze

And a fat swell
Between the Heads
Surging over broken rocks

From fallen cliffs.
Day-trippers from fifty nations following
The curve of bay and beach

To the throb of engines
On the fathomed deep.

David Green