Fraser Island

When I visited Fraser Island Miranda's island from "The Tempest" came to mind. That island was full of magical sounds and I heard that magic on Fraser.

Miranda heard magical music

In percussion crash of wave,

Heard it tinkle in treetop

And echo from distant cave.

Now those same sounds I hear

On this realm of purest sand,

Without pebble, rock, clay or loam,

This beautiful Fraser Island.

It softly and sweetly sings

From serpentine streams so clear

That the mind is forced to question

“Is this water or is this air?”

It murmurs in the mangroves,

The blue of upland lake,

In banksia grove and pandanas plant,

In the forests of coastal she-oak.

It crescendos in the rainforest’s

Green palms that densely entwine,

Its soaring white towers of blackbutt,

Its spotted beauty of Kauri pine.

It sounds from eastern waves

That daily wash from their sand

The countless tracks of the 4 wheel drives

That scurry upon the land.

And even though on the morrow

That traffic will again resume,

Closely following the tide will sing

Its lyrical, relentless cleansing tune.

O gently, gently each day

The attendant tide comes in

And with song of ease and grace

Makes everything pristine again.

Then the magic that Miranda heard

Ripples or crashes in the sea,

Or in the high, bright notes of the treetops
Makes songs of exquisite beauty.