Seeing the world through childrens’ eyes




Seeing the world through children’s eyes. 

When the tide recedes beyond the horizon
and the underbelly of the sea is exposed
for little adventurers, Edison and Darcy
the rock platform is a necklace of pools
shimmering like emeralds and full of treasure.

Worry of slipping and falling is not their concern
they hop from rock to rock                                                    
clamber about down on their tummies
their shining eyes
reflected in the mirrored sea.

Everything is magical and extraordinary
Come here, quick Grandma 
the crabs are humongous. 
a scuttle of creatures disappear in our shadow
making us wait quietly
pretending we’re not here
as the rocks curl with camouflaged
crustaceans creeping out
and pincers like boxing gloves
point up at us.                                                    

In their eyes there is wonder
as red anemones sway the waves
as the molluscs trail into patterns
as starfish wash up like gift
as a sting ray glides past their toes
as these curious boys
learn to be respectful of the living world

Seeing the world through children’s eyes
makes me happy to be alive
as we steal out to the edge of the sea
and look for whales
as we dig in the sand on the edge of the beach
as we allow gentle laps of waves
to fill our canals and tunnels
and moats to protect our castles
until Darcy sees more fun in jumping
on them as quick as we can  mould the sand
seeing the world through children’s eyes

















southerly buster


Another one of my poems about the sea. I had walked from The Entrance around past the pool towards Toowoon Bay,  when I saw the southerly coming, always a relief from the heat of summer,  but when you  get caught out walking, you need a tree for protection.  And as you will discover in the following poem I was not alone looking for cover in the down pour.





southerly buster

on a pearly-silver day
a celestial backdrop
of slanted shafts of light
for a bearded god
to peer over
with smile or frown

I rambled
around reefy outcrops
perfect for crashing spindrift displays
with miniature ocean-worlds at my feet

but the weather turned

swirling charcoal wind
like cold grey dragon’s breath
scudded sand
whipped my legs making
my walk a huddled hurry
scurrying to beat the squall.

a banksia near the sand
saved the soaking that could have been
honey dew cones
as i crouched for shelter

my walk cut short
the sea shrouded
vista gone
i could’ve felt alone
but two birds joined me
masked lapwing plovers
their long-legs danced
delighting this turn around day

maybe salacia


The following poem maybe salacia in A Call to Listen was chosen for the Central Coast Poets Inc 2014.
I was invited to read my poem at the launch and was fortunate to be able to do so.
My sister Kay Ward who lives on the Central Coast was present, my husband and my Grandson Lachlan Keating. An exciting day.

maybe salacia

she walks the beach
scanning shells on the edge
in a loosely tied sarong
hair swept up under a wide brim hat
face lined with many lifetimes

fishermen and sailors nod and smile
sea gulls rummaging along the shore hardly notice

she walks barefoot on the sea-soaked sand
tracing the waving wrinkled water mark
bites of the winter sea at her toes

she bends to receive tumbled gifts
golden whelks, salty periwinkles
spindled limpets black neuritis spotted voluted cowries

some say she listens to the music of the sea
others say she’s a drifter
or perhaps
an artist living her art
a poet living a poem
some say she belongs to the deep
maybe goddess of the sea

now and then she gazes out
to where the sea and sky converge
as if she yearns
to slip between the sentinels of crashing waves
to her home beyond