The last Sunday of the Year

The last Sunday of the  Year
Dawned misty  and grey
Not a drop of Sun 
Not a single ray.

2018 winds up its tales
A New Year beckons
Hurried footsteps and January  sales
Half price offers to fill up the coffers. 

Town is bustling with visitors all hustling
For late December  pews and seaside views
Over  the mist raked  harbour.

Dogs bound along the endless sand
Visitors harken to a local brass band
Church empties it's Christmas penitents onto the salt soaked streets. 

Children run along the beach 
Parents nicely out of reach
Painting castles in the sky
Beauty from the untrained eye

Elders walk arm in arm
Wrapped against the wind and rain
Some just watch through their windowpane as the march of time moves inevitably  forward.

There's a sense of  optimism  in the air
A quiet knowing
A feeling that we somehow know where were going 

I played witness to the  last Sunday of the Year 
The couples arm in arm
The barking dogs and laughing children
And the final December calm.