A hazy, halo moon waits for us over the next hill
shining in the gloom – is this a beacon or a ghost?
I keep Sam on his lead as I tread our usual route
up the cobbled street beside the dark still water.
There are few reflections across the opposite shore
just the outstretched fingers of thrashing reeds.
We listen intently to the knock-knocking of the little boats
as they bounce against the harbour wall.
My eyes strain to see McGhee’s cottage with its all-night glow
as Sam and I climb the pathway towards home.