
DOWN TOWN SAND-SCULPTOR
Small red mat of beach
on down town paving-stones
against the wall of Smith's
(soon to be closed down).
Out of his pile of sand
he's shaping a resting hound,
with one beady eye-jewel
from a bright pebble.
His skin dark as mud-flats,
stubble sharp as marram,
he's so intent and focused;
just a turn at coin-clack.
His hands move like waves
constantly smoothing out stones,
his blood the unseen currents
and ear-shells listening distances.
Sometimes money drizzles down
from people in their tides,
as he softly continues sculpting
the lying dog into life.