29 February 2016            Matauri Bay  

The busy sea had been up early polishing her sandy front step til it shone for the dawning sun to glaze it silver.  In its reflection Norfolk Island pines comb the sky, teasing tangled clouds smooth for the breezes to spin.

Hand holding hand we walk along the beach, vanilla ice-cream sand, wave-licked above, and from beneath small explosions, clam volcanoes mirroring the haze-grey, worn-down island ridge that stops the sea from slipping out in a cloud-rugged hug.

Dressed for this once-a-four-year day, terns wear scarlet stockings to match their curved red beaks, seagulls choose yellow, and the grander, more formal black-backed gulls don black tails, juvenile birds a-baying and food begging, padding hyena-hunched behind.

Tattooed in the skin of the sand, if you look, are tiny kauri trees, a secret worm’s curlicue doodle, wading birds’ fluted footsteps strung like bunting through sea-sand sky shine.

Waves write lines to hang a frothy song on, soaping sand and sending terns to stutter and putter from their reflections.

Hand holding hand we walk back along the beach.

A day like no other.  Here now.  Eternal.

Copyright Christine Cooke March 2016