Thoughts from the Edge of Gunnamatta Bay

Sounds of a myriad, myopic
      tick-tock, tap-tap-tapping
   waterfalling droplets of ice-cold chill,
      coruscating cross the ripple corrugations,
            radiant and radiating,
circles centring and recentring in liquidity,
   past waves wandering wayward, bayward,
billowed,
      and reflected in the sky.
   Amber and gold and blue melting into silver.

Touches of wind, feather light fingering
 through ferns and flowers,
  soft as grass grown through morning,
   sand silent slithering through hair.
Hard and cold in anger and majesty,
 surf sounds strafing shorelines,
  swimming past its own beauty.
Seagulls toe-catching at the waters,
 skipping,
  and sending it slipping and spinning,
   sideways slinking.

Love’s whisper gentle in your ear,
      early evening and late;
Constant and caring,
      forever calling for response:
Understanding,
   All demanding,
      All accepting.
Like yours, Lord:
      Left in death,
         Life in death,
            Love in death.
   Cross-broken and finally falling,
      forever forgiving.

Life is for living, Lord,
      Peace is for praying:
   Life is the prayer.

                                    June, 1979