Flowing East to moonlight, rose-coloured water and sky. First Autumn clouds sighed. Pink-hued wavelets shone, and suddenly the day was gone as a dark blue curtain fell, and the soft harbour whispered… “touch me.. fall into me, sky…. come share this ink delight.” And so it seemed that heaven and water were one in sweet dark night.
Overcast late afternoon. Quiet bus ride home, via Wooloomooloo. Softly, an 80’s song came to mind, though I couldn’t remember the words. Blue-grey water to my left. Cowper Wharf Roadway wound ahead and suddenly found the night.
Love the bay like this. Stone cold, blue-grey watercolour day. Sea, brushed by wind, smiles with foamy grin, “That’s fine.” Closer to shore, lone water-bird flies low across the blue, drawing her momentary lines. Nothing but time. Nothing but time.
Sunlight reluctantly relinquishes the bay, replaced slowly by sheer, burnt-orange veils falling gently over every hard surface. Silently all is wrapped in carbon-black; inspired and unimaginative structures alike, effortlessly redacted. Power lines and gutters painlessly dissolve, leaving thousands of amber cells of light to my left and right, and a few at Ashton Park, across the bay to the North, sparkling like suspended gems in the night. Suddenly, a cool breeze. Trees in Beare Park shift and whisper – a conspiracy of leaves, aching to speak, but bound by age-old vows of secrecy. As dark as it is now, I can still tell water from sky… a deep, still blue-black under a black-black starless heaven tonight.