Walking Through The Storm

Walking Through The Storm

Inbetween the tides,

I walk my dogs

along the waterfront

leaving footprints

and pawprints behind

in the muddy sand…

At least, for now.

The dogs out walking.

The dogs out walking.

Time and tide giveth

but they also taketh away…

There is no forever here.

No eternity.

Only this very instant.

This particular tick-tock

of the wretched clock.

Tick-tock and it’s gone.

The decaying jetty is returning to the sea.

The decaying jetty is returning to the sea.

In this millionaire’s paradise,

jetties lie dead and dying,

falling plank by rotten plank

into the hungry sea.

Moss rises from the murky depths

taking over, moving in.

Green so green…

so much more

than just a three day growth,

there’s now really quite a beard.

Oysters colonise the piers

an aggressive exoskeleton

Layer upon razor-sharp cutting layer.

It’s now getting hard to see

even a patch of wood

through the decay.

Time and tide

wait for no one…

Dark, menacing clouds loom overhead

grumbling and complaining.

Although the tide has barely budged,

the rain is almost here.

We must walk on.

Stretch our wings.

Soar high above the water,

over the hills and into our dreams.

There is no turning back.

We haven’t reached nirvana yet.

With only the crust exposed,

the beach is still buried underwater.

I duck under the jetty,

a tight squeeze

through its sinister jagged maze

but there’s no turning back.

Holding my breath,

little bit by little bit,

I inch my way through.

It’s hardly Mt Everest

but I survived.

I have to keep walking.

Time and tide wait for no one.

Neither does the rain!

The dogs are sniffing.

Sniffing, sniffing, sniffing.

With more dog smells

than their wildest dreams,

it’s dog utopia.

Yet, heaven help him

if he finally met

his perfect match.

My boy is rather scared

of other dogs.

Raindrops start falling

on my head.

More than just

a little pitter patter.

Drip-drop.

It’s a dumping,

drenching,

pouring,

downpour.

Dogs,

camera,

self…

all diving for cover.

Lightening’s flashing.

I’m saturated to the very skin.

Two sopping wet, stinky dogs

and we’re not even home yet.

We could be dry.

Yet, we inhale the storm.

Electricity almost passing through me,

I feel strangely alive

as my children watch

through the window.

Crying, wondering whether

Mummy will survive.

Mummy!

Mummy!

Mummy!

How could I

walk on the wild side

when I’d been warned

about the rain?

Yet, in this great balancing act

between life and death

How can we live

while holding our breath?

Crouching in the nest

too afraid to spread our wings

and finally learn to fly?

Carpe diem

Seize the day!

Why be dead

before we die?

Time and tide wait for no one!

Bilbo and I in the laundry sopping wet but we made it back.

Bilbo and I in the laundry sopping wet but we made it back.

Rowena, Palm Beach, Sydney

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