Along Terrigal Beach
By Brian Purcell
Needing more cash to get the fish
I walk via the beach
dark cloud, fat drops of rain
seagulls and some hooded terns
awkward among the weed
as the sun cracks through the cloudbank
the headland to the right
a neglected transparency
but someone flicks a switch
on a lightbox
and we remember
against the darkness
the resurrected birds
white and swooping
seated at the quarried ledge
I remember
breaking the news to my mother
as my wife, unconcerned
prepared to cook
the other headland
darkly wooded
catches the light
and a thin, high-tech lighthouse –
a white arrow embedded
at its centre
and you across the world
reading
the white world outside
a frozen empty space
and words like gulls
lifting