Your morning dew breath
trickles in early
As we walk with the foxes,
by the rockpools by the shore;
By the lilies by the glade.

Sometimes
         I feel a well
                   dug deep
         into my heart
  I try to stop it
but it quickly
becomes ocean
  and overflows  
     into great tsunami
          rises over all the levees
             rushes past dams                  
               breaks down tall
                   city structures,
              edifices crumbling
           in its path
     all the squid and octopi
    skitting forth
in wild pulses,
tentacles entangled
     in doorways and rooves
        slipping through narrow
                window-openings
                   as they pour ink
                       in clouds,
                         shifting shapes
                          in cephalopod excitement
                            while blue whales
                            and humpbacks
                               breach over bridges,
                             phosphorescent jellies
                          light up
                       the dark streets of
                      my arteries
                     electric eels illuminate
                    the alleyways of
                   desolation's thick syrup
                     and I cannot stop it even
                            if I wanted to,
                   these darkened,
                     swirling waves
I am both floating and flying
like a jumping manta ray
curling around the ferries
bobbing in seahorse iridescence
weaving between buses
as if they were corals

And when the storm subsides,
colorful rockpools form,
rich in diversity
It is there,
in between the
multicolored ***** and
succulent shellfish,
in a mermaid's
       voluptuous smile
and turquoise eye
that I see you,
so crystal clear
                I could reach out              
                      and bring you to me,          
                         holding you tight
                         until the
                gentle break
     of
          morning

and the page turns,
memories sepia, brown
and frosted with time
come to light.
faint, murmuring words,
swim at the back of my mind.

summer days....spent in splendour.
balmy nights and mosquito nets.
rockpools little crab kingdoms, the smell of coconut oil and arms macadamia nut brown..

and again the page turns
the boys in rugby kit
me standing off to one side
head in a book...
one girl among too many older brothers
always a tagalong in handmedowns and enid blyton's famous five..

and again the page turns...
christmss hats and presents
cold chicken,salads and little baby prawns....sherry trifle
and poppajack snoring, beer still in hand...

and the page turns and turns
little windows into former lives......sometimes nostalgia
and sometimes.... just a peeping tom..

A walk on the beach in the morning
is never a simple affair
once the dog is dressed and the kid's on the leash
we leave with the breeze in our hair.
We walk along the shoreline
and watch the changing tide
we clamber over rockpools
where creatures deftly hide.
I'm not a morning person
My brain remains asleep
for at least two hours after
my eyes begin to peep.
So I take in the horizon
with a deep and grateful sigh
while boy and dog go running
off to greet some passers by
the fishermen are chatting
showing them their daily catch
while the dog he begs for something
from the bucket, just a scrap
So the guy picks out a live one
and shows it to the pup
who jumps away quite quickly
treats forgotten, heckles up.
My son he takes a finger
and reaches out to feel
this shining, writhing creature
in a bucket made of steel.
He flinches as it flips it's tail
annoyed that he can't catch it
but it slithers through his tiny hands
and back into the bucket.
We turn our tails and head for home
and talk of what we've seen
the boy says in his grown up voice
lets not have fish for tea.

And now we walk amongst the hardshored men,
Yet still are drawn to beaches, coasts and sand;
But now a short bond tethers us, and when
We hear the sea, it whispers overland
And fails to draw us in. This time; rockpools
Soothe our need to feel our souls float free.
When we forget, our pitched gait breaking rules,
We fasten rope to our four-legged quay
And walk alongside fleck-foamed, frothing fear,
Sidestepping slurping, *******, greedy rips,
Observing from afar, not drawing near,
Confining peril to our pleasure trips.
Vigilant, watching, ever bound to see
Eroding eddies of our lives at sea.