At the Point of Gold, fresh Pau is sold from baskets of woven dry grass.
The next point along, is Malangane where I lived in a caravan house.
Dobela’s point break, is left in my wake as the coral reef crackles and pops.
The ocean is clear, the fish are so near, under ledges with hangings and drops.
Coral gardens in hues, that are muted in blues, waving in dappled sunlight.
The fish are unreal, quite ethereal as they drift and flutter in flight.
But Milibangalala, Oh Milibangalala, the white foaming wake of the boat.
When the birds are flying nigh, and a whale shark passes by, the whole world seems to sing a different note.
The days are long and dreamy, the beaches wide and creamy, the Apodytes flowers fall like rain.
The sunsets are sublime, with a moon-rise down the line. No where else does a 2M taste so insane.
Bella Roche further on, has a rock you can sit on and see the ledges where the fish come swirling through.
We were there one crazy night, when the moon shone out so bright we thought it had come down to see the view.
Hell’s Gate is quite a place, the current runs apace, sharks feeding at the entrance to the bay.
Santa Maria is divine, the palm trees form a line. Down by the sea, top-heavy tall, they stand and sway.
But Milibangala , Oh Milibangala, that small piece of paradise on earth. I would name it as my home, never ever more to roam another beach, another place another berth.