This morning we managed to get to the beach. We got there before the Nippers.
November verse 14: A swim at Clovelly
Seven thirty, from Clovelly
Road, the sea's a silver sheet.
Once there, rub sunscreen on the belly,
back and shoulders, then the sweet
and icy plunge. Today no gropers
show themselves to interlopers
such as us, but one bold gull
dive-bomb swoops us, for the thrill.
And now the beach is full of nippers,
energetic, pink-clad, young,
reminding us that we belong
to boundless life. Ah, flat-white sippers,
once more dry and clothed, we sing
our farewell to another spring.
I have written this blog post on the land of Gadigal and Wangal of the Eora nation, after visiting Bidjigal land and water. I acknowledge Elders past and present of all those clans, and welcome any First Nations readers.
Me fail? I fly! 