An Estuary Nocturne

The dying light of another day

Dapples gold upon the water.

The sun, weary of the world

Is resting on the horizon.

Here fresh water meets brine

The birds have fed well on the margins

And now they look only to sleep

Keeping a watchful eye out for hunters

That might stealthily creep in the night.

Tomorrow is never taken for granted.

Night calls fill the marsh scented air

An ethereal echo of the day just passed.

Small creatures emerge from diurnal sleep.

The night is theirs until, taken by surprise

They are sent running from the rising sun.

Colin Beardshall 2014.