Grudging – Word of the Day
A strange alarm clock. I think the parrots who came in late to roost held a grudge, I was getting a message! Camped in the Stirling Ranges, a couple of years back with Jon, and a tree full of parrots.
It happens that way,
that my words not so much tumble
plunging into your very being,
and so begins a pas de deux,
a dance of sharpness,
exchanging blow by resenting blow.
And finally, exhausted,
we clutch the lifebouy of forgiveness.
Encircle – RDP 77
Looking eastward, the sun rises at Elachbutting Rock.
the urgency to hold,
the knowing look.
Escaping long interrogations.
as we watched the moon ascend.
We arrested time,
and marvelled that it was us.
There’s no urgency now,
the seed a flower,
our hearts deeply immersed.
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.
Blossom – Word of the Day
Another Wattle (Acacia) taken at Manea Reserve, the blossom is always so rich and golden, like miniature suns. Acacia carries a multitude of meanings, including; purity, fortitude, renewal, eternity and love.
After an aeternus
Helios landed with a thud
showering sparks across the land.
It must be so, because
the trees are ablaze,
golden with fire so bright
I averted my eyes, for
I could not hold your gaze.
You possessed me,
devoured my senses.
5 Lines – Vacation
We’ve been more of a camping, bush travelling type of family. But a couple of years ago we decided to take the Ghan from Adelaide to Darwin. It was a great choice, and a great holiday.
Where are you?
mmm … O, sorry, I was miles away.
Really? I could see that.
I was thinking we should go on a holiday.
Yes but you’ve just been, miles away, again.
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.
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.
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.
Also spelt – sussurus, sussurrous.
The trail skirts the rock at Elachbutting Nature Reserve.
Plumes of breath
as warmth greets chill air.
Leaving the cocoon,
I embrace the moment,
solace in the billy.
The sun catches up and,
peaty mounds are steaming.
And despite the damp,
leaves crackle underfoot,
such is the nature of eucalypts.
The haunting sound of sheoaks
rustling in the breeze,
entwining as lovers.
Grasses faintly whipping,
The trail fills my nostrils,
woos my ears and delights my eyes.
that sensual dawn symphony,
joy for the expectant soul.
Soft drizzle a bejewelled gossamer.
captivated, I move along,
one gallery to the next.
A masterpiece on every side,
unseen, curators scuttling along.