Bronte Beach Sestina

Here, the spring is warm and full with blue-gold sun;
The sea stretches, white-tipped, to the line of sky.
Children dragooned into scenic walks plunge into the water,
finally unfettered, like slick otters dancing.
On the sand, toddlers dig and build,
and a sarong-clad woman's phone plays Hallelujah.

The afternoon wears on to Hallelujah
threading silvered notes against the sun.
The toddlers seem to know just what to build
Above, cumulus wavers in the powder sky
If you close your eyes you might see angels dancing
bemused by joy, before the salty water.

The purity of colour in the water
is enough to draw the Hallelujah.
At harbour's edge where tired men are dancing
doing yoga in the gentle sun.
Seagulls drop like aircraft from the sky
to knock away all that children build.

High above, the one percent will build
gold-plated aeries overlooking water.
Houses nestling down under the sky -
But no one owns the sweet-sung Hallelujah
or the scent of wind-borne saline in the sun;
No one gets to say who will be dancing.

In the surf, five children now are dancing,
dainty on their toes as the waves build.
The midday heat is fading from the sun
and they wince and laugh while in the stone cold water.
One of them sways in time with Hallelujah
telescoping in and out to the wide sky.

From the sand, a woman thinks of sky
and how the stars are always lover-dancing.
How the wave-boom sings a Hallelujah
and every mote is something that you build
every tiny thing is born of water
and lies, surfeited, drying in the sun.

And in a quiet place, the verses start to build
a quiet paeon to the three-shade water
toes in sand, and head tipped to the sun.

- Kathy, 27/09/17