SHORE SONG
by Chris Wallace-Crabbe
Grumble away, sweet ocean,
Your surf comes rolling fast
With such a lyric motion
Your powers go to waste
But the bluegum-shaggy mountain
Ignores your breaking;
Rosellas here are waking
And slowly, very slowly,
I too am waking.
Now the bright sun rolls higher,
Ocean falls to rest,
Ideas have lost their fire
And reverie seems best
But the pulse of coastal music
Grows oddly firmer;
Thin creeks and gum-tips murmur
And, pushing through the tea-tree,
I, too, murmur.
Copyright © 2009 by Chris Wallace-Crabbe.