Pittwater Rowboat


Rowing on a windless day

a shining crystal sea,

reflections of the morning sun

in blinding tortured ecstasy!


Emptiness, I'm safe out here

away from Sunday crowds,

the sky is clear,

but jellyfish are drifting clouds.


I'm rowing to a hill of trees

on the western side,

an old tin boat is how I sail,

experimental ride.


Beneath the hills - a yellow beach

and shining of a stream,

pull the boat across the sand

beneath the grey and green.


Fingers grasp the warming sand.

Sunlight full and clear.

Houses on a distant shore,

the morning dream is near.

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