Elizabeth McCusker: ‘Dusk, Blueys Beach’

Dusk, Blueys Beach

The re-born crescent moon winks at the headlands,
giant coals in the fading, furnace of this fiery day.
The far-off lighthouse strikes out its piercing beam,
The children’s castles and towers now melted down
by the swell of lacey surges over a pink guilt hem
of freshly wetted gold dust, bubbling then settling.
Board riders linger recounting the day’s best waves,
the thrill of the nosey dolphin pod arching round
them, their freedom matched only by the circling
sea eagle patrol surfing the day’s last thermal.
The colony of smartly-tuxedoed, pointy-ended terns,
intruder sea gulls, now expelled, vanishes to sea,
their favourite rise abandoned to the waves and
crab battalions busily drilling down for the night,
cicadas hum, masking the chortling wattle birds.
We bait up the lines again, not hopeful of any catch,
heat relieved, at peace, alone on this hidden beach,
as sunset turns to lilac dusk and the stars come out.

Elizabeth McCusker