Music to my ears, the washing surf is breaking
On the undulating coastline, as I’m slowly waking.
I wander to the shoreline. Along the winding beach
White sand that’s fringed with dunes stretches to eyes’ reach. In the distance Coolum Headland juts into the brine,
Misty blue-green mountain that sleeps in dawn’s sunshine. Rays of amber-rose beam through purple cloud
That wraps the far horizon in its foggy dark-hued shroud. The rosy gold of tinted sky reflects on gleaming sand. The waves swirl up and each curl swirls away some more of land. The dunes that stand like sentinels against the swirling tides Are losing their long battle. Erosion eats their sides.
Their grass-topped flanks that face the churning water’s flow, History of battering storm and raging cyclone show.
An angler on the shore casts in his fishing rod.
Lone seagull swoops and circles hopefully above.
Stunted scrub of she-oak, bottle-brush and cotton trees, Windswept and sloping westward like waves upon green seas, Grows upon the hillside above the ruined dunes.
In the foliage flutter sea-birds warbling sunrise tunes. Rain scuds blow across and dim the pink and gold.
The clouds beyond the shoreline Coolum Heads enfold. Raindrops descend on land and sea, blowing where they whist.