7 days, poems & photography. Oct 2

It never happened

Early morning on the tucked away beach with a name
I despise, Wellington, just Wyn and me and eye, whales
breathing in a strange sea layering greens and blues.

I wait for the inexhaustible waves to let fly a ripper
and embroider the convex meniscus of black rock
which the Gumbaynggirr would have named,

and for the whale that breached behind moments back
to breach again, at exactly the same time to create
an event that cameras seem designed to celebrate.

There is nothing in the world without its decisive moment. Cardinal de Retz, 17th century political figure.