The golden stone glows, rich with midday sun,
man-made cliffs that bookend a verdant ocean
of bathing sun-seekers and children cut loose,
chasing balls across the grand green expanse,
flitting past us like flies, riding bright plastic scooters
along grey tarmac rapids as the current sweeps us
onwards towards an island, a monolithic outcrop,
a gleaming rock where we stop, to preen and to roost.