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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I'm ready if you are. Steadily walking past wekas, canoes, sailboats, motorboats, along concrete paths, down ash-felt slopes Across intersecting car trails Drawn only by the beckoning beach. Feet slipping over Northland's rough green grass Damp, spongy, smooth grit of coarse golden sand Surrounding bush covered hill houses Silently call your name, drowning out the cicadas. 'Where are you? Did you come? I'm ready if you are.’ Sinking into still water Invited into the giant’s bathtub Slowly sit, deep ideas, deep tides Run rocks between my toes, sandals Nesting dotterel, raucous red billed gulls dive bomb Cute little scoundrel of a dog, owning the beach. Gaze on other swimmers, friendly laughter hastens Early morning dippers, holiday makers, with quiet chat, Slipping away, back to their working day, Driving uphill to Russell, leaving quiet Tapeka Bay. 'Would you love it here?' Smile.' Dumb question, who wouldn't?' 'I'm ready if you are.' Deep soundings, cool water Your name echoes silently from windless hills. I grab my towel, dislodge stones from my sandals Guide myself blindly up the streets and hill, Steady along concrete paths, past canoes, Pausing in the doorway to a soft bed where I find you. Dry weeping salt from my eyes 'I'm ready if you are..' Sleep confused, “Where did you go?'' '...to the beach' Standing tall above your sleeping form Hope listens, living breaths, Hope listens, silent non response Hope falls, body turns away Breath, mouth, not ready to start their day. Unspoken questions fall only on sleeping stroke-fatigued ears. Standing there, alive, energised, 'I'm ready if you are.'...Not! 'If you are not ready now Where will I find you? Where will I find you later? Will I find you later? Arisen, alive, leaping energetic, with laughter Smiling, saying 'Come swim with me!' Hope turns to fantasy. Outside along the concrete path Wekas linger Towels, togs swing in the bush edged clothesline Canoes rest Awaiting the excitement of days spent ploughing through the water. Tears linger Sounds of the shower Washing the salt away. February 2017
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