We went to Margaret River.
Where grapes are grown,
Works of art fashioned from
paint, wood, glass, gold
We woke early and bought breakfast
from the bakery, coffee from the cafe.
There was mist curling through the trees,
a chill in the air. We made our way to the beach.
Waves were high.
Surfers in their element (despite the cold).
Walkers, shoulders hunched.
Dogs chasing sticks, barking at gulls.
Shells and sea smooth stones, slipped into my pockets
for mosaic projects, ideas that
skitter through my head.
We drove past green paddocks and golden vinyards.
Found art galleries, full of treasures.
As night drew on
we ate pasta and drank red wine.
All was good.
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