A Stroll around Coolum

  The path looks overgrown since my last walk here...

  A surging swell pummeled the beach

crashing in ebb and endless flow

I felt the pounding through bare feet

standing wavelets ankle deep

 Mischievous breeze

tumbling in from Pacific seas

collecting scents

into a potpourri

exotic, yet homely to the senses…

 and waves roared

 Wind whipped and tugged... but no kites today

no puppet string sky-pantomime

 Good weather fer fishin', this old bloke reckons

or perhaps it's just for the challenge...

  Beach grass waving to the waves...

such simple treasures

humble pleasures

restore my inner balance...

 Sand-drifts and foot prints

  After the rain, green is vibrant and lush...

  A wide view of one of the tamer paths I walk

 
 I feel the Earth breath here... strong and rhythmic

wind-whispers tell of ancient days

when volcano lived and dinosaurs roamed...

 Fingerlings reach skyward in skeletal ballet

  Lilly-laced and flower-graced.... wait a minute, what's that red thing...

  A lost cricket ball.... floats alone... forlorn, forgotten and far from home...

  Practice the art of stillness... and they will come to you...

 Art .... is a new  Perspective

Guinea flower yellow summer vibrant

Purple-blushed-nectar-pot

A local tribeswoman... gypsy hippie nomad....

 New banksia

flower fragrant breezes

playing tickling games

over tired skin, while storms boil high

in a wild summer sky

I stumbled upon an unexpected pleasure

bursting with unexpected treasures...

waterfalls that gurgled and tumbled over stones

winding paths that meandered on

past native flower

and wetland ponds...

Such bliss found in silent places… midnights… a tree’s shade … eyes that speak

not in words or sounds, but with untainted honesty

be they the eyes of a babe, a bird, a lover

 There is beauty and richness beyond the worth of coin

in the scent of jasmine… the briny aroma of surging oceans…

the earthiness of partially decomposed organic matter

leaf-fall and fungi and soil

cicada in their hidden places

sing of natures varied graces

clouds cling to the moons’ watching face

like a veil

 of aged lace…

*

Thoughts and Photos- Sharonlee Goodhand 2014