Piers, jetties and park crouch low round the shore,
Aglow with rich colour, like a carpeted floor.
The outgoing tide leaves sand damp and brown,
And many hued shells lie all over the ground.
A gull washes feathers of crisp black and white,
In warm sheltered shallows – a splashing delight.
Tiny waves clutter the uncovering sand,
Dancing and tumbling, where water meets land.
A spectrum of turquoise and aquamarine,
Undersea gardens change from deep blue to green.
Boats of all colours turn slow on the tide,
Pulling tight on their hawsers as they float side by side.
Their reflections all a-quiver in a water-borne frieze.
Shimmering and swaying in the light morning breeze
Now gold strips of sand thrust their heads into view.
As the tide keeps receding, cleansing anew.
Small boats come in as others go out,
Leaving white foaming wakes all scattered about.
Away to the west, almost lost in the haze,
Wilsons Promontory stands, pale blue guard of the bays.
Hills dressed in trees spread dark green to the sea,
With pale green grassy tops, rock strewn and free.
The sea governs all in this colourful town,
It encircles the place, like a warm turquoise gown.
Small islands are strewn like gems all about,
But Port Albert’s the crown – of that there’s no doubt.
