Walking a beach or a nature trail can do wonders for your stress. I wrote the following poem after such a walk and my earnest hope is that it will encourage you to take a walk of your own and to write about it afterwards.

NORTH BEYOND STATION CREEK.

Pressing my back
against the
scaly, grey bark
of a salty tree
my umbrella
to protect
a blue pin-striped shirt
from raindrops
that suddenly
fell from a blue, sunny sky
delivered in a
bulky dirty cloud
off shore.

The rain does not
dampen every patch of earth
but green thick
grassy blades
are washed glistening
clean
for my eyes only
because where I
crouch
perhaps no one
goes.

Maybe I am the first
to shelter in this spot
where life quietly
resides.

My camera case rests
on my head
Dry lens inside
with polarizing filters
perfectly manufactured
to add an extra
touch of blue
to set off the
white gum on the
beach.

The rain stops.
I step over the washed
leaves and
crunch out on
pebbly sand towards
the footsteps in the sand
I made 15 minutes earlier.

An eagle overhead -
gliding most of the time -
seeing me from
ten storeys above the surf.
Wide sweeping glides
an impressionable bird
against a grey, moist sky.
Another eagle appears
and then a third
a posse of eagles
to launch a raid
on a Sunday bushwalker.

The wind is cool
but not too strong.
The off shore island
is sunlit
and sea mist
is everywhere
on this lonely
beach north of
Station Creek.

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