The last time I was here I stumbled through the sweating bush,
Down to the track behind the huts.
All luminous blue green radiance, with the sea inviting.
I met the others in the scarlet shade of a flowering tree
Where I dog dropped and lay listening to the splash of the seas
And the beat of my heart.
That summer is over and the rough stumble has turned
To a tight stroll along the flat parade.
The trees, bee and bird free, shake in the cold South wind,
The wind that scuds a stony cloud that is too mean to rain.
Low against corrugated water, surly from neglect.
Small fire of twigs and seaweed lit before dawn
To warm the bones after the longest night,
And an offering of food on a toy raft
To appease the sea gods.
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