I never was a beach walker
Days warm down Tamarama
But there’s something about the edges of cliffs
And the walk between Bronte and Bondi
Exercise spaces and wooden beams
Winds calling me to jump and me
Barely resisting. I climb over the wall
Right near the sign which clearly states
Do not pass this point.
If I sit in the cave just round the bend,
I can’t even see Campbell St,
Sky and sea and horizon all there is,
The surf loud far beneath me,
The curious gulls flying too close.
And this is Sydney for me, long ago memories
I miss, places and spaces and ocean
Anger and calm, the tug and pull
Of salt and spray and time and sun
Far from here, warmth a distant ache
In cold bones and muddy rivers.
