
lapping water at the edge under a green swept tree
little boat comes to the shore to rest and just to be
a placid spot to sit and watch the world go by us today
a peaceful day with ghosts to play in nature’s serene bay
Poetry | Stories | Photography
lapping water at the edge under a green swept tree
little boat comes to the shore to rest and just to be
a placid spot to sit and watch the world go by us today
a peaceful day with ghosts to play in nature’s serene bay
Trees move
and whisper with the wind.
Stars fill
the sky with light wonder.
Moonlight
soft as a caress, a whisper.
Shadows
gather and move in wonder.
Autumn,
whispers softly to the wind.
A room sits amongst the trees.
More box, less room; hidden away.
Within the room lives a Hermit
who loves the company of no one,
nothing; only birds, animals, and spirits
give the Hermit joy and sunshine.
A room so big on the inside, and
so small on the outside; a palace.
Around the room, birds flutter and
poop on the skylight. Trees sway to and
fro in time with the seasons, and burrows
hide wombats, possums, plump creatures.
A room sits in amongst the trees.
More palace, less room; hidden away.
The Joik begins.
I feel the cold sea
taking me away.
Taken on a journey
from my chair,
moving on the wind.
The song continues.
I touch your land,
feel the falling snow,
swim in the cold sea;
finding lost things.
The Joik ends.
I never left my chair,
yet I’m different;
I play your song again.
Letting the self go,
sitting staring at the sky,
feeling the firelight.
Letting the conversation
flow between zen and starlight.
Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moonlights part of the way.
Bronzed grass lines the streetscape,
this land is crisping under the sun.
Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
as a lost memory emerges, forms.
Big stars burn down from the sky,
the moonlights part of the way,
so, I walk to the end of the street.
Black sky, big stars, a bright moon;
the hills sit in luminous shadows,
no cows moo at this time of night.
Bronzed grass lines the darkened
hills flowing beyond the shadows,
to remind me of other landscapes.
Blossoms on the breeze do smell,
reminding me of the landscapes
of my life, and how the landscapes
of this land changed me over time;
how this land’s landscapes change.
Another day for Squares.
As the theme this month is Up, I’m going back to a visit to Prom Country Cheese located in South Gippsland.
I do love their cheese, so I’m very happy to share the photos of their lovely part of the world.
The flower asked a bee, “When will the world end?” The bee looked dumbfounded, then buzzed away.
Perplexed, the flower asked a spider: there was only silence.
Then a cat sniffed at her petals. She asked the cat the same question. It seemed to prevaricate any response, then pissed on her stem.
Tall trees hide many birds,
as we walk into the forest.
Unfamiliar bird chattering,
puts our quiet time to rest.
Onward we go dreaming,
wishing for the old times.
We spread out rugs, food;
looking up, down, around.
A bird pounces: one, two;
bread slices disappearing.
Another bird pounces soft;
fruit pieces are vanishing.
We nibble on what is left,
photographing the birds.