by Michael and Colleen on autumn beach walk


CK            on the horizon
shelf of thick cloud
dawn lingers

MK            edge of the ocean
elements in balance
cone of awareness

CK                autumnal sun
catches the wet sand
our mirrored world

MK             gulls saunter
pattern the sand
we ease past

CK            olive-green seagrass
buzzes with insects
fresh from the ocean

MK             warm touch of sun
gossamer seaweed
dart of swallows

CK               the blue-grey heron
forages alone
we curve around

MK              photographers in position
board riders at play
wait for the moment

CK              near the headland
hang gliders colour the sky
autumnal breeze

MK            step through this autumn morning
extras on stage
accept our transience

CK               with incoming tide
two sets of footprints
are gone



no footprint






With our very severe droughts, dams can be dry and  things that were unfortunately dumped there are exposed again –  including tyres that were once swings over the water.

However my poem is about the turn around weather that also happens in our country and the dam ‘overflows’ with laughter and joy. The poem was inspired by a dam, on a property that I was visiting at the time, called the Sanctuary in Queensland. A place of peace and  bell birds, blue lilies, magnificent stands of eucalypt , and a sacred bora ring of Bunyan Pines  and much, much more. When the rains  came it was magic as the poem portrays.


it was a long dry
the underbelly of the dam
in the far paddock
exposed tyres a rusted trap machinery
old wheels and discarded petrol drums

after the rains
sound from the dam calls
from beyond the scrub
i follow the once hard dusty track
now a squelch of mustard clay
and sticky wet paspalum knee deep

dank-scented saplings and surviving gums
cocoon new life
saffron-blue water lilies
crowd the iron-black water
needles of wind cross stitch the surface
falling seed pods, dip of willow
the scud of iridescent ducks
zip of stippled dragon wings
and dart-tilt-skim of arrowed swallows
overlay the pattern

at the far end
half-hidden in the reeds
lies a rotting mossy log
a diving board from my childhood days

crickets frogs birds in chorus
and gregarious squeals
from two busy masked lapwings
on the bank
create a bush symphony

here in my place of refuge
a coming home
the roots of an old gum
extend comfortable arms
i sit in their embrace
and watch
an egret stalks its prey