The curve of the bend

My strategies buoyed my enthusiasms

As I drove the Bilgola bends

Northward to Avalon Beach

There I found Bookoccino

And rested within her doors

Seeping into my veins the

Literature held in the books

Later I drove southward

To Newport Beach.

The surfers were out.

A young boy picked his way

Through the swell

Zipping his wetsuit

Casually tossing his bodyboard

Over the breaking waves.

He swam expectantly out

To the last shore break

And bobbed up and down

At one with the sea.

The beach was deserted.

I could see four people

In the distance of

That great sweep

Of Australian coastline

Ultramarine blue and shell

Crushed sands

Ours always ours

And never theirs.