Tralee Bay

The sky mourns the land;
And the land mourns the sky,
Regimented waves punch -
The shoreline.
Black armbands
Salute the dawn, in silent retreat
The mountains line-up -
Like the knuckles of an ar hand:
Tight, weathered by age.
The wind whistles a harsh melody
To the sea.
As thin lips of cloud kiss -
The peninsula.