Beachcombing, 26 Aug 

An Oystercatcher is calling over the breakers,
I scan the rocks, no sign, probably a Sooty,
photograph canyons scribbled through
the rockpools and our bathing pool, the sea
is floating, spreading, pushing and falling in.

The sea pushing in
The view north

North, the coast is glistening, I squint
in the shine then look down onto golden
lustre to take and bring back to my love,
a deserved currency crossing the Pacific.
The Chinese character for money began
as a pictograph of a cowrie shell.

Cowrie, Diminovula nielseni, perhaps?

I hear the call again, coming closer,
a pair flying so close, the air obedient
to their beautiful black wings
a wonder opening up the view south.

The view south

Beauty is usually imperfect but still a cure for many things.





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