The map

Like a white turn, it watches over the island
From up above, it sees the mountains, the beaches, the coral.
Buzzing of the jet planes coming from the mainland,
Bringing the newcomers, to rest and dawdle.

Snorkels pointing at the scorching sun,
Beneath, currents from the coast and open sea,
Join at this island, bringing underwater fun
Here, turtles and fish come to be.

Beneath the forest of a rare palm tree,
Pecking at the berries, waddles a woodhen.
The people gather and look to the sea,
The sun is setting, the island is zen.

This map is a memory
of the small gemmary

Of Lord Howe Island.