| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3753 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Predators ross Hamilton hill Sandflats, 6 am, Sunrise. Meditators dot the beach, sunrays spoke out above and below the storm clouds, crystallizing wave tops. I rig up and cast into the clear incoming tide. Stand waiting, letting my thoughts drift past the trees. Hours later, mum and babies, boogie boarders,... three Flathead caught. Monstrous fish, stone age, demonic, cold crusty predators,... even dead, their slimy bodies thrill with spider fear. Enough for dinner, vindicated, I clean them by the water's edge, throw the guts to seagulls, who strut importantly with rapacious eyes, greed on the wing. Washing sand off my feet (every time it reminds me of childhood admonitions) I speed past the Club Med bungalows. Interloper! Trespasser! My rod is a lance, the tollgate part of the local news, my bike shudders on the potholed road. Sunrise Beach Byron Bay |
