Under sky scaped, curved and crafted sunny -
The wet sand shines like glossed terra cotta,
Sandhills lazing, bleached pale as creamed honey,
Sky-dyed sea waters singing and talking,
Pearly white foam flouncing on pouncing waves,
Graceful sea gull flocks that soar, dive, squawking,
Whipbirds cracking chirps in scrubby enclaves.
And when the weary sun dips low and sets
Fire to feet of any cloud that lingers,
Comes creations no child of clay forgets -
Flourishes straight from the artist's fingers.
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