Birds are the first thing I hear
when I sit down beside the fig and the hoop pine. Lots of them,
from tree to tree, sounding happy
in the late sun softened by a breeze.
Then I hear the sea,
continual, always our background.
The cyclist in the park glides silently
but the birds notice and comment: a sudden flurry of music.
When I listen deeper, I hear
the leaves moving very gently
fluttering like feathers. It seems the trees
are spreading wings and preening, it seems they smile.
I rest my chin in my hands. I am in no hurry to go anywhere.
The circling branches of the fig
make a frame for the park and the road beyond.
The sun starts to burn my back through my nylon blouse.
A helicopter growls and chugs in the clouds.
© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2008
My friend Raeline, visiting in January from overseas, gave me a reading with her Spiritual Voyager cards. One thing I was told was to go out into nature, listen to nature, and then write my poems. It's productive!
A long time later, I'm linking this to The Tuesday Platform for May 17 2016 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.
Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.) They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here. Copyright also applies to almost all photos posted here, most of which are my own, though a few are licensed under Creative Commons.
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