Sleeping on the Beach
A rise of cool sand. We pull the yacht a few feet up the beach and dig the anchor down. The moon is half over, filling the water. Between brown bushes we unroll our sleeping bags. It is probably not too far off dawn. Snug down the sails. A small sound of wallabies foraging in the saltbush. We change our wet pullovers and shirts, take off our shorts and settle into our bags. Sand in a brief fall hisses beside my ear. Birds cry distantly. A hush of small and luminous wav…
