It was late afternoon when I came upon this beach.
The golden sands and iridescent waters a surprise at this latitude.
Discarding shoes I felt the warm sand squeezing between my toes
as I walked along the high-water mark.
The demarcation between that which is regularly inundated
and that which remains forever dry.
Sitting on a small, sandy headland where grass
clings to an existence and the Marram grass fringes the edges,
I watched the sun make its daily rendezvous with the horizon.
Black as ink the lake extends.
As still as night it sits.
Low grey clouds obscure the sun.
Colour is reduced, greyness wins.
Its cold tentacles enfold my soul and body.
Its icy fingers enclose my form.
All that moves are the ripples from
the tears as they drip silently into the water.
Silent, expanding ripples as I sit alone on the jetty.
The moon blinks its way onto the world.
The clouds part and the countryside below
is cloaked in its soft silvery light.
Edges are no longer sharp but rounded.
Life is much softer.
A quiet descends.
Sounds that are usually masked by the
shrill and busyness of the day
can be heard once more.
Far off sounds travel further.
That is you.
Wherever I am.
Whatever I do.
Your peace is there.