A lone kayaker skims through
smooth waters of Belfast Lough.
Yellow legged gulls
circle his blue craft,
their cries echo along the strand.
I want to believe these streams
of late morning sun
will purify the sea breeze.
Cupped in my palm,
I jingle green sea glass,
ready to cast the dice.
Tim Dwyer’s chapbook is Smithy Of Our Longings. His poems have appeared in Cyphers, Orbis, Poetry Ireland Review, Southword and The Stinging Fly among other journals. He retired as a psychologist from a women’s maximum-security prison in New York and now lives in County Down.