Redolent – Word of the Day
On the road to Jindalee, one of many places where a breakaway occurs creating sharp contrasts in colour and texture.
An Anamnesis Of Joy
To listen for the sound where there is none,
save for the elegance of birdsong,
nature’s grand opera.
Or a whistling breeze, when it can be bothered
to sigh along the gullies and through the trees.
The smell of eucalyptus, like laundry day,
nanna removing stains the old way.
Dust in my nostrils as my soles kiss the earth,
the crunch of grit,
and that dry feel of summer’s arrival.
The familiar buzz of flies,
a bead of sweat
released from winter’s cold cell.
And, overwhelmed by a sense of joy,
wanting to tell everyone,
I exclaim, again,
to no one in particular,
“I have no words!”
Just the silent liturgy of feeling,
An anamnesis of joy,
of a past now present once more.
Jos Monday Walk
The upper reaches of Margaret River where it crosses a road, this year a steady flow.
Harmony – Word of the Day
Photo: Dry creek bed – the Hull River, Northern Territory. This particular spot is also the site of Kulpi Tjuntinya also called Lasseter’s Cave. The river is mostly dry on the surface, and runs underground. There are many soaks along its route. When it does rain heavily the water can be one third up the height of those trees, which given the width, is a mighty volume of water.
The Australian bush, long before white settlers, was well protected with the harmony of traditional law or Tjukurpa – pronounced Chookapah (following the Central and Western Desert peoples view). The law is an oral tradition handed on generation to generation and memorised. One of its central principles is respect for all the elements of nature because everthing is in relationship and everything has an effect. While the words harmony or balance are not explicit, the principles are evident in the way Australian indigenous peoples treat the land and each other.
In the Balance
Where once where trees lie salted plains
and dusty cattle ruts.
Camels, mines and 4x4s,
billabong and creek consumed.
Settlers coveted and misunderstood,
but the Anangu have wise ways,
and through their ancient dreaming,
there came ways of loving nature whole.
Fragrant – Tuesday Photo Prompt
The gentle fragrance of the winter bloom of Acacia, lovely to see these Wattle trees signalling the coming end to winter and the arrival of the southern spring.
Rain moistened soil
wattle trees glorious
gestation of hope
Wanderlust – word of the Day
The creek running through Fred Jacoby Park, Mundaring.
Silver birds don’t always take me there.
Today I walked with friends,
majestic red gums, acacias abalze.
the musk of roos unseen,
wattle birds, honey eaters,
the morse-code of frogs.
The creek rushing with winter,
taking little green ships to foreign parts.
And my mind begins to wander creeks past,
memories like underlined sentences;
my fathers warm strong hand,
my lovers gentle hands clasped in joy,
smaller hands clasped in mud and giggles,
tadpoles in jars,
hands of dear journey friends,
a few who’ve journeyed into the west.
Living and cherished,
Today I walked with friends.
Silver birds don’t always take me there.
Energetic – Word of the Day
The creek line along the outer wall of King’s Canyon.
Elegy For Mother
I stopped on the rise
where the trail opens to a valley,
and sat for a while admiring your view.
I took off my shoes and savoured your sand,
ran my hands down your powdery skin,
stretched my arms out in praise,
breathing you in,
taking you in memory,
Purified in your creeks,
fuelled by your self-offering,
I reflect this on your paper,
in my electronica chic,
mineral products so smooth.
All that you are is
all that I am,
and all that I have.
Yet, though I valliantly try,
I have left you
like a football I once kicked,
burst and rent.
Kyoto a faded vow,
my lust has consumed you
your energy spent
And more than admiration,
or the faithlessness of plattitudes,
you need a hand.
Explore – 5 Lines
Bush walk at Chowerup in the reserve.
You came buttoned, but with invitation,
and, down in that lush grove
as damselflies swooned by your daisy crown,
we explored the borders of eternity,
and chartered a new path home.
Moon’s Crossing, Pemberton.
I would break easily
if I fell upon this rock
unless like water
Chill Out – Photo Prompt
The Famous Five chill out? Though I thought I heard them singing, “… watching the tide roll away …” Walking the Blackwood on a rainy day.
Striving – Word of the Day
Welcome Swallow’s nest underneath the aqueduct at Beringbooding Rock. You can see other. older parts of the nest have fallen away, and the broken one to the right shows the grass lining. This site is ideal for swallows who build mud nests, because this is a water catchment and the swallows can essily collect clay and sand from the edge of the water. The amazing texture is formed as the birds make pellets of the mud and place them one after the other in the form shown above, a little bit like making pottery. You might also note that the nest is solid but not perfect. A bit like my life, solid but not perfect!
“Don’t waste your time striving for perfection, instead, strive for excellence – doing your best.” Laurence Olivier
There was something I once saw,
and I set my gaze in that direction.
Though somehow, the closer I got,
the further away it seemed.
Until at last it faded from sight,
and I forgot about it.
That was long ago,
in the mist of my own beginnings.
Until again the quest rekindled,
and I ventured forth,
determined, striving, and yet
still a seeker, never finding.
Esfahan to Marakesh
the road was long and I was weary.
Yet even so,
that crucible of perfection was elusive.
Until at last I turned along the dusty road,
to that familiar place called home.
Nothing is ever lost,
though that one elusive thing I never found.
And I know I never will.
Instead, I let go the quest
and found the path,
as I came home to me.