A Day at the Beach

They rowed from the north. Little way, not far now. 

Along routes passed down from ancestral wayfinders. 

In search of sea cucumbers, and trade. Perhaps love.

Yellow dogs yapping from shore and boat: we remember you.

People bring water and food to the beach: you’re welcomed.

Come, sit. Let’s talk. Taste this. Have that. Rest now.

Plenty time for business, later. Time is endless here.

Others came from the West, drenched and bedraggled. 

Shipping broken lives, hateful doctrines, gunpowder.

There be dragons! No, just empirical fantasies. Again.

Hoist the flag. Rattle those chains. Look at all this girt!

Heave ho. Row row. Pull the boats up on the beach. Lo.

Get a look at this place. Get a look at them, over there. 

Bang bang. Let us now pray: Advance Fair Australia.

A lone Nicobar pigeon drifted on north-west winds.

Alone. One of the last of its kind. 

A distant relative of the dodo – cuzzies even.

Iridescent green, flashing under southern sun.

Land ho, not far to go. That beach will do.

Too tired to fly back to their island forest, 

They resign themselves to life as a foreigner.

The orca swam along the western coast, distracted, 

Watching an unfamiliar bird move towards the beach.

Too small to even consider a snack. Still, pretty heh.

A loud engine, louder people, disturb it’s serenity:

Here kitty kitty of the sea. Smile for the camera. 

My, what big teeth you have. So pointy-sharp.

All the better to crunch on your bones, my dears. 

They galloped in from true south, 

Foamy white tails and wispy manes flying.

Bringing with them a hint of icy cold air,

And tales of aggrieved 200-year-old ghost whales.

Mare mares yearning to touch ice-free beaches, 

Before retreating out to wild seas again. 

Racing each other, now southward bound.

We walked along the beach, waves caressing toes. 

Ripples of memories. And debris from distant shores.

Fragment of a coconut. One broken sandal. Blackened driftwood. 

Fish carcass, not more than a skeleton. A shimmer of glass. 

Look at this amber-brown bottle! No message; throw it back.

A glance over sun-kissed shoulders, a whisper of laughter.

Remember the last time we were here? When you weren’t a memory.

She gently added more twigs. Blowing softly, until

Red and orange tongues flickered. Hungry for more.

Children come running, laughing, escorting the catch. 

Eyes wide. Big feed tonight. There’s plenty for everyone.

Warming ourselves by the fire, story weaves around us. 

Later, the children sleep in a huddle of cousins. Right there on the beach.

Stars twinkle overhead. A streak of light. Ancestors watch patiently.