Journey Of The Day

If this is the way to celebrate a release  
from four walls of circumstance - then 
I’m lost and confined as before; we’re 
driving to the beach - there’ll be space, 
open air with relativity more in tune with 
liberty. Podge, my doggy mate, shares 

some of these ideas as suits to wear if 
his cortège of haberdashery fails appeal, 
raising a case for emancipation greater 
than I as he sees car confinement merely 
an extension of here and now and not, 
as I imagine, the means to an end 

in his way of thinking if opportunity is a 
rare visitor its not dissimilar to staying in 
place - so here I am writing while he, in 
good cheer, reclines on the rear seat  
enjoying the change in his ‘now’ which 
isn’t a shared trait, not even vaguely 

we alight at Bribie’s Sylvan Beach, a 
wry deprecation of deific meaning, into 
reach of a debatable westerly sweeping 
across Pumicestone; Podge doesn’t see 
anomalies, pees breezily everywhere 
with incredible dedication, begs for 

walks on damp sand, dabbles in salty 
lick of a subdued wash, fetches a few 
sticks and watches passers-by with an 
erudite understanding like a seaside 
veteran - politely leaving the nods and 
enthusiastic ‘giddays' to me 

Ms Munificence, Birthday Girl, smiles 
but disagrees my sense of direction - 
luckily she slips sylph-like into a trance 
of beach-side contentment, a grace for 
which we are recompensed grandly 
in making this the journey of the day 
© 19 November 2013, I. D. Carswell