Salthill, Monkstown
Blue and yellow flutters on the tidal flat,
The foresails of a sailing school this June, by Salthill station.
Sheathed boys and girls, unruly academe,
Group and splash and hone cooperation.
Then with a ragged cheer the small boats fan and linger to a line.
One makes a gusted break, chased down by dogged teens.
I check the time and thread my recently sprained ankle
To the first step of the bridge that spans the tracks.
Wobbling slightly still, I cross to Northbound.