blue is the colour of my love

You’ve got to hand it to Mother Nature, when she sends an east coast low through South East Queensland we all get to feel her might. And that’s what we’ve felt over the past 24 hours as swells reached about 4 metres and winds hit 85-95 knots.

On Friday before the low hit, lots of us raced out for a surf before the swell got out of hand and the forecast nor’easterly gale hit.

The water was glassy and grey.  We played for hours in fun 2 foot waves. And we watched the most astonishing light show in the sky and across the horizon.

surfboards, sky, EC low

Mountainous brooding cumulous piled upon themselves to the heavens. Wherever the sun broke through it shivered across the sea in scattered pathways.

At one stage we couldn’t see approaching waves because the colour of the ocean merged entirely into the sky.

That experience combined with the following 24 hours of howling wind and rain- storm brought back memories of one of the first poems I wrote in about 2008-09 called “blue is the colour of my love”:

in the utter peace of dawn

a world of hanging mist and forest blur


after night’s mayhem

of tidal-wave winds

and squalling rain flung against shivering windows.

there in deep shadows beneath exhausted trees

is midnight blue

the colour of my love.

silent mystery in pools of exhaled air

gasping, i climb towards the surface

on a ladder of streaming sunlight

and silver webs.

this blue of love is new.

never have I seen such depth and dimension

and all the while the casuarinas flower and lyre birds caroll

colliding in yugambeh-land language.


the day was still

poised on a cliff edge

as crows scrawled symbols across the sky.

reading bird talk is an ancient art here

and shadows mark the way.


how blue is my love?

as deep as the forest in this silent soil

as vast as the ocean of peace

home is the place my heart now sleeps.

Rock, sky, EC lowSurfers, sky, EC low


into the temple

Into the Temple

In my relatively short surfing life Thursday morning’s sunrise offered new levels of depth.

There were no horizon clouds so as I paddled out, that immense ball of fire silently exhaled straight out of the sea.

Just a few blokes were out the back on their boards – in full black steamers silhouetted against the sky. And as I paddled into the lineup there was silence and stillness…everyone was transfixed by the rising sun.

It felt like paddling into a temple of monks and it brought me a little undone actually, to experience such a shared moment of sacredness in this most secular of societies.

When I caught my first beautiful wave the sun was at my back and the newly-waning moon still shone almost overhead. It was a tender moment of open-heart and open-mind and as my wave sighed to a close, I could only bow in thanks for something so much bigger than me.

“Wherever you are is the entry point” Kabir


dawn surf temple