Bora born
Cane fires on water _
The mob comes here to play along yesteryear
song lines bargara beach unlocks and then some.
The fish trap bulldozed into oblivion
copy cats the kanaka built volcanic
rock walls disappeared by night thieves a plenty.
Across the road on the corner block once stood
four two storied timbered upstairs downstairs flats.
For six weeks we as kids had drifted off to
sleep each night to the sounds of then finding
new ways over rocks up through louvered windows.
This space now fills with patterned minds tethered
to it all, a generation of opulence.
The high tower crowd, an indifferent lot descend
on the promenade of who's the boss chaos
tone deaf to the breeze settled in background bliss.
Running on empty, they move out munching on
word salads, time stamped by needs for approval.
Quiet rests now on benches everywhere the place
a child in a wheel chair passes in silence
on a boardwalk, over sand, under tree shade.
An elder man slow walks his hand rail practiced
exercise, a wheel chair looms not far behind.
This rich salad bowl of sound tuned to the gifts of
the ages waves hello goodbye to those who sense the
message always there on a breeze driven wind.
- O -
© 14th july 2021 _ Ioan James Daniel
Author's notes are here.
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Cane fires on water _
Cane fires on water _
