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.

A glass of wine and conversation; Mandy’s good for me.