Lockdown walk No. 7 Bedazzled by patterns of nature by Colleen Keating

 

So is the miracle of rock formations  and their beauty from sand and silt and pebbles laid down, forming rock and then sculptured by the sea and wind sometimes violently like the betrayer and sometimes caressing like a lover.
As we walk from The Entrance Beach around past the baths we enjoy the rocky shelf and headland sculptured by the wind and water and tides. It is waved and striated and patinated and honeycombed and is a joy to the eye.

coastal walk

my eyes trace lines
that curve and swirl
track contours and circled altars
waiting their tide reunion
where only soft padded periwinkles
and sharp edged oyster shells venture
landscapes of sculptures composed
by the dreamtime of water wind and sand
a patterned mosaic
dioramas unfolding
like silken threads from a mulberry tree

each line each ripple
a stretch mark wrinkle scar
has its story

with the tide the ocean
rolls and thunders
sometimes her fingers
like talons scratch and claw
yet eternally patient
her hands caress
love and mould
soothe and soften the violent edges
touch the secret caverns
and with each tide seduce a little more

poem Page 46 A Call to Listen

Patterns so easily missed on beach walks Colleen Keating

 the still point

the wide expanse of sky and sea
wakes to morning light
seizes the shimmer of dawn

its cerise and gold
reflects in rills of radiance
out to the ocean’s edge.

 

my poet’s eye turns to small things
easily missed
in the splendour of the scene

miniature patterns
minute designs
still and still moving

 

 

 

molluscs creep unhurriedly
leaving a sand trail
in their wake

 

runnels of water and sand
find a balance like playing statues
stop as sculptures of model rivers and forests

 

 

generosity

the ocean is forever generous
rolling in
like one with arms wide open
taking gently
all that no longer serves
our higher good .

the baggage of worry fear and guilt
are taken carried
and washed away

the sea banishes all morning megrims
clean as the unblemished sand
that i step onto


to join the seagull
that flies in.

seagull 

my morning footsteps
are tiny imprints
arrowed
over ruffs of sand

the lift off
pathless
swinging
the compass needle
moves the horizon
always looked at
to never arrive
a hover of blue air

 

Haiku

late spring walk
along tidal line
joy of bare feet

 

 

summer beach walk
how pleasing
with sandals in my hands

the sun flings
a pool of light
on the ocean