Portsoy Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A yacht slices the waves like a cheese-cutter
Off the jetty, youngsters plump
Like porpoise-pods in the Firth
Half-fish, these seamen’s sons in seal-wet trousers
Dive, surface, shake on the rocks like sodden shags

Lobster pots loll on the pier, drool orange ropes
Pleasure boats like Costa Bravo toys
Make show-off circuits speeding round the surf

The harbour water’s jade and bottle green
Aquamarine where black-shelled buckies crawl

My balls are freezing one young buck shouts out
Chicken, his diving mermaid girlfriend counters

Each tiny craft is moored by chains and anchors,
As each child here is tied by love and need
To the grey stone houses climbing the slopes above
Where gulls plonk down on lums like ice cream scoops