An ancient fugue echoes
echoes from the beach near
the steep hill at Waikouaiti
across the bay towards

Karitane as another receding
tide near Old Head Street
exposes a feast of fresh
clams. Red-billed gulls and

caspian terns in saturnalia,
but still they squabble and
dash in bursts, their lowered
necks across drying sand.

An old man with
a bright blue t-shirt and
a bright yellow life-jacket, who
gently paddles an undersized

purple sea kayak. A
dog looks on. I guess
you could say that it’s
unimpressed. And a dozen

or so kids drop
baited lines from the pier
now also looking remarkably hopeful,
though less than was

true an hour ago.
And as the wind picks
up, a woman with calves
like boab trees waddles

past with a fluffy
dog far too energetic for
such a place, and the
water’s surface begins to

break. It is afternoon
after all – the time for
tide’s turning and a welcomed
coolness from the stinging

Otago sun. The auditory
and the gustatory notes creep
towards the repeat bar.

© Jason Goroncy
1 January 2012