POEM TITLE Blackness on Sea Haar
POEM The sea haar tiptoes across the water
carefully passing the shoreline
with the tenderness of a lover
that has taken what it needs.
Outside the Lobster Pot an
old man nurses a pint of heavy
he eyes the haar like an old foe
“You will not pass” he mutters.
A coquettish laugh breaks the silence
young love broods over the skimming of stones
they carry on their game
unaware the haar has touched them.
Expectant pub quiz revellers
meander in to find a table
the old man pays them no heed
he never wins, he never loses.
Later, they will all leave
with tales of ‘what if’ and ‘maybe’
the haar will have retreated
and the old man’s glass will be empty.
The haar will always return
seeking solace in tender souls
lamenting what it has taken
unaware of what it has given.
This could have been a day ago or even decades before
I cannot say for sure
this is Blackness today, yesterday, and always
nothing changes, yet everything is different.
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