in this beach house perched on a cliff,
I am lucky
to
be here, the heavy ocean
and beaten sand fuming in slush,
the surfers bobbing
slowly
dying with the age of cliffs;
clean off, the endless sky sends a message,
gather your life.
the car park of wet morning gravel
enclosed by dunes
is witness to seagulls scavenging for the half eaten bakery
items
of a bus load of Chinese tourists
up from Sydney.
and forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment