I watch the wash of surf, the blue and white –flecked ocean,
The curl of the bombora rolling in slow motion.
I sit watching the surfers balancing on boards,
Riding the bombora and zig-zagging shorewards;
And I see the vision of windsurfers skimming
Over calmer water, gaudy sails a-trimming.
Paragliders float aloft in the azure sky.
Occasionally a bird or a plane flies by.
Below upon the beach in the fine white sand
Children laugh and frolic, hair bleached, bodies tanned.
I watch upon the deck of my unit at Caloundra,
Content to pass the time with my friend Miranda.
Miranda’s gentle humour is calm as tranquil sea.