Whitby Harbour By Moonlight…
(From Atkinson Grimshaw’s painting, 1867…)
Evening cloud scatters in the wake of a brilliant moon,
The star turn of the chorus in a theatrical sky,
Which pedals its weak turquoise into a reflection
On Whitby’s sedate but high Victorian tide.
Nets hang damp on rails, a lugger, maybe leaving soon,
Quivers, moored in the shadowy waters, rippling high;
And welcoming amber shopfront lights reflect their seduction
Upon Whitby’s waters, hinting of coal-fire warmth inside.
Curiously, I yearn to be there, inside a friendly saloon,
Drinking ale and smoking a pipe with ageing regulars spry,
Watching the moonlight spectacle, the evening attraction
With Whitby’s fisherfolk, bearing their hardships with pride…
Pete Ray
20th October 2024…
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