On A Sunday At The Beach

The sky is cloudless, sun beating on a jewel sea
Waves lap lazily onto fine, white sand
The saltiness of the sea fills the air awakening the senses
And a pelican sits, upon a rock rising up from the sea
He surveys the humans with one eye
While watching with the other for his dinner to swim by
On a Sunday at the beach

Man-made sun-shelters dot the beach like igloos in a desert
Children smiling, laughing, emerge from within
Hats on heads, painted with zinc, smothered in sunscreen
As if ready for a corroboree rather than a day by the sea
They scamper to the water’s edge


Mums sit in their igloos, keepers of sustenance and all belongings
Watching with eyes like eagles their children playing, paddling, swimming
Dads help build sand-castles, works of art, amazing sculptures
And teach their children to swim
Sea-weed swirls in the shallows around the youngster’s ankles
They scream in terror of hidden sea-monsters lurking in its midst

Sea-shells are collected in buckets to be taken home
Only to become smelly and thrown away
Sea-gulls screech overhead, waiting, hoping for leftover sandwiches and cake
A dog chases - barking; they fly away
Then circle back still waiting, hoping for food

People lie on the sand falling asleep, cooking in the sun
Being baked brown like a Sunday roast dinner – foolish people!
And local teenage boys play a cricket match
Showing off their muscular, tanned, young bodies to giggling, bikini-clad girls

An ice-cream van, bell clanging, pulls into the car-park above the beach
Children come running as teenagers saunter with money in hands for their treats
Melting in the hot sun, icecreams hurriedly eaten, drip down fronts and over hands

Gusts of wind blow in from the sea; whipping up frothy waves
Bringing with them a chill as shadows start to lengthen
Signalling the day nearly over
And so the exodus to the city and suburbs begins

Parents pull down their igloos and pack up belongings
Tired, sandy, sun burnt children with their collections of shells and such treasures
Climb into their cars to sleep the long journey home
Sun-bakers awake from their sleep red, sore, thirsty
They too return to their cars
Local teenagers walk home still showing off, still giggling


Cars crawl bumper to bumper like a giant caterpillar along the highway
Slowly returning home
Monday morning brings work and school, with all week to remember
What a great day was spent
On Sunday at the beach




.