Where I live...

My Inner City Beach

Dogs yelp in small backyards.

Melbourne sweats and fumes.

Traffic chokes the hot and heavy highways


as I seek sanctuary on Liardet's beach,

this modest strip of dunes


where noise and footprints fade,


where a gentle tide rolls in,


unfurling waves to redeem the shore


in orderly return.

Now twilight gilds clouds pink and grey and orange


as the ball of sun drops down, while in the West

the Bridge hoists cars in bright boomerang above the river,


tattooed lights winking, blinking golden


in a lapis lazuli sky.

In Bay Street, the town hall clock chimes


ring tones clear across the port,

where the Devil Cat purrs in,


delivering safe passage


across the Strait from old Tasmania.


But a league away in Newport


a tall chimney flares and flames,


a blood-shot eye sending


Morse code out towards the Channel.

On Webb Dock, Lego-like and loitering,

cargoes lie in transit and cautious guards patrol,

check shadowed wharves with sniffer dogs

as giant cranes lock down,

caged migratory birds, forever grounded,

jealous of the ratbag gulls, who swoop and flock


and mock in noisy freedom.

Night descends. Traffic slows.

The coast breathes soft while

kids and dogs splash safely in the shallows.

And I think of childhood days -


cousins smiling from long lost summers,


sandcastles and sandwiches at old Stubbs Baths,


the innocence of aunts.

Memories flood in.


Simple joys revive

on my inner city beach.

© bba, 07/06/2011