"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

TOOWOON BAY POINT

Crumbling like an ancient warrior's spearhead -
A hardy headland pummelled by a tumbling sea,
Soaking up the sunny strokes of fairy floss skies,
And shining with the wet gloss of glad waves.
Sea snails cling like lovers to rocky craters,
And stealthy crabs sidestep to cover in the cracks,
While frothy rapids tangle the slippery seaweed,
And hungry herons perch and search to hunt and feed.
On steps of the first rise the whip bird flies and cries,
Higher up greedy crows skulk, stalking Pacific carrion,
And the pines stand tall above the stubby banksias
'Round grassy parks edged with scrubby green brush.
The air is never quiet, for the ocean roars aloud
And calls the names of those who love this coastal haven.
Maritime perfumes - salty and fishy - tickle sunburnt noses
And the kindly sea breeze whispers an anonymous welcome.


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