On summer nights when wheeling bats
On night-dark wings through fig trees sweep
To Nielsen Park you drive and walk and slip,
Into the rocking water's soft sweet grip.
To lose your sense of time and wash away
The smoky presence of the hurried day
The wine-flushed faces and the voices loud
The shouting presence of the sweaty crowd -
For here the salt of skin is quick replaced
Within the dusky harbour's deep embrace
And rising from that clean refreshing depth
You float upon the surface of its breath.
The phosphorescent plankton stir and spark
Each molecule a shining silver mark
Where swimming hands have made each pinpoint track
To mirror stars which hang above in black.
And then the wind blows warm and clean and new
The salt dries crisp upon your skin clean through
You turn again to bed and deeply sleep,
Within the warm night's all embracing keep.
© 1998 Graham Dowden