David Chadwick

Petone Foreshore

 

The wind returned and with a vengeance

After a long and tranquil summer

We walked along Petone foreshore

As the evening bled into night

The dogs were chasing tennis balls

They raced ahead, diving heedless

Into the black and rippling water

One ball thrown too far escaped them

Bobbed away across the harbour

Carried by the offshore wind

The dogs would both have given chase

Swimming til they tired and sank

If we hadn’t brought them back

Called them in and turned for home

Straight into the ragged blast

Shouting, trying to be heard

Above the squalls of roaring air

But all our words were snatched away

Ripped from our mouths ­- sent skittering south

We reached the shelter of the house

And as we did the tennis ball

Slipped unseen between the Heads

Broke into the wide, wild Strait

And headed for Antarctica