In Retrospect
a tanka string
on a path
beside a sheltered bay
at Robe
where seagulls drift…
this calmness within
in the ruins
of my childhood home
swallows nest
among the restless ghosts
of laughter and tears
from the rubble
of his family home
a small hand
clutches a torn teddy
and two copper coins
at Robe
the red memorial gate
scribed in Chinese …
they made landfall here,
walking miles to the goldfields