On the footpath by the sea
the tourists come and go.
the summer flowers gleam,
salt breezes softly blow.
On the footpath by the sea
the children run and play.
Pirate games and treasure maps
sweep their hours away.
On the footpath by the sea
tadpoles swim in drying streams,
the dogs lap all the puddles up
while walkers eat ice-creams.
On the footpath by the sea
here come the volunteers
to clear away the plastic
and gather mermaids tears.
thrust up from earth belly deeps
rising through coal seams
born on a rocky peak
the spring bursts forth
crystal pure
running clear
reflecting diamond
ripples of light
dancing to pastures
gentle and green
tumbling through gullies
flowing through valleys
and back to back houses
gathering coal dust
tadpoles
cartons and cans
and children fishing
for fish long gone
with sticks and pins
and old beaten buckets
barefoot on muddy banks
the mountains still rise
high up above
as the river runs over stone
and finds the sea
and rises to cloud
to bring rain
to the fields below
The Dreaming Path 