I work from home alone.
I raise my eyes to the window,
look out towards the hills, cows.
Magpies snap up worms from our lawn.
At lunch, I stand in thongs and a coat,
watching everything between heaven and Earth.
The wind wails of Winter, yet it is Summer.
We bake in our car
as we drive to Far North Queensland.
The changing landscape
seems to move and breathe with us.
An Illawarra Flame Tree
reminds us of an Australian song.
We stop for a while
to feel the way the wind moves
to see the Flame Tree burning.
Susurrous sounds of longing
move through this ancient landscape
we take a photograph to remember.
sunkissed dirty brown-red earth by day,
starlit luminous enchanted land by night.
casual bushes, trees, and plants bustle,
as the nightlife of the land, comes alive.
ripe creamy yellow fruits lure wombats,
possums, echidnas, and bilbies to nibble.
sweet passionberry bushes jiggle and
bounce as the animals’ stuff themselves.
Thoughts of snow,
reprieve from the heat.
Chickens live next door,
often disguised as roosters.
Flies buzz determined;
evil beasts want tasty food.
A beast enters by magic,
the instant recognition of the fly swat.
Angry as a beast lands,
you wildly spank the chair.
Echoes of this land
blood, bone and broken dreaming
A song we know plays
Some prayed for rain; others danced, many gave up hope as the dams dried up.
An old man sat looking at them, shook his head, and thought of all those times he scolded the rain.
What he’d give for drop now, yet then he hated how the rain always ruined his plans.
boobs fall on sticky skin.
Sipping on tea,
butt cheeks feel warm.
Spa foot bath,
tingling all the way up.
opium incense cloudy.
feeling fat and flabby.
I wrote this one yesterday.
We have experienced Winter in Spring.
It’s lovely, as the rain is everywhere at the moment, yet the thought of Summer makes me wish for more rain and cold weather.
A rain cloud kind of wild day
Petrichor blew away by the wind
The wild rain calling outside
Placing my empty porcelain cup
The inside smells cannot win
Walking outside to feel the wild rain
Your heart yearns for the sea.
Sitting in your office, you drift towards the southern saltwater.
Lost in the south sea, you drift unnoticed and unafraid of what may become of you.
You float on the waves, the sun begins to set, and you think of nothing.
We stand around the bonfire,
listening to fire crackling wood,
as ash and embers touch the sand.
We think of magical tridents on fire,
as we think of Poseidon and the sea.