Liz Rule

Trip to Williamstown Beach

The sun rises through red and orange to yellow,
the temperature climbs to 100 degrees in the shade,
as we drive in the Austin to Williamstown’s esplanade,
there to join the crowds that wade in the water’s shallow,
or sit in the sand under cover of coloured umbrella,
quaffing bottles of beer and sweet lemonade;
we kids build castles of sand with bucket and spade,
and, in the cool of blue-green waters, wallow.
We laugh as seagulls squabble and squawk over scraps,
and watch as ships sail by on the rim of the world;
we chase each other with pungent seaweed, curled
and dried by the scorching sun into leathered straps.
Reluctant, we leave, as the sun dips and colours the foam,
to the sound of Dad singing, “show me the way to go home.”



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