4/12/09
the glow dims
in her cat‘s eyes
when she leaves
5/12/09
lightning and thunder
punctuate our summer
but snow is foreign
***
the seasons turn
the creek is blue and full
soon we'll swim
6/12/09
a xmas of stars
and dragonflies
who needs Santa?
7/12/09
Inspired by Bette Norcross Wappner’s woodcut:
trees and air
and midnight
falling snow
11/12/09
like my cats
the plants are very still
this hot morning
13/12/09
step by step
we arrive home
together
18/12/09
early light
through palm fronds
a few more days
24/12/09
Christmas Eve sirens
the firies* drive round tooting
we wave and we cheer
*Aussie for firefighters
************************
summer hots up
the creek’s at high tide
but I’m packing
20 January 2010
Warmth
Sitting here in Northern Rivers, opening my fan,
I read that it’s even hotter in Perth where my old aunt
remembers little now, her days drifting by at a cruise.
She is fed and taken care of, as she was on those cruise
ships, where at each port she collected a fancy fan –
the hand-held kind. She had human fans too, my aunt
and still has. She is simply, always, my favourite aunt
who rescued me from a cold household, taught me to cruise
through life with kindness and laughter. I spread out my fan,
my treasured fan, which my aunt once found on a cruise.
18/1/10
I read that it’s even hotter in Perth where my old aunt
remembers little now, her days drifting by at a cruise.
She is fed and taken care of, as she was on those cruise
ships, where at each port she collected a fancy fan –
the hand-held kind. She had human fans too, my aunt
and still has. She is simply, always, my favourite aunt
who rescued me from a cold household, taught me to cruise
through life with kindness and laughter. I spread out my fan,
my treasured fan, which my aunt once found on a cruise.
18/1/10
Unchanging Afternoons
The somnolent unchanging afternoons
of summer schooldays in Australia
play in my mind like lazy, half-lost tunes.
On somnolent unchanging afternoons
of peppercorns and small white daytime moons,
I dreamed of drama, storm, and high regalia –
and now of those unchanging afternoons
in somnolent long summers of Australia.
10/1/10
of summer schooldays in Australia
play in my mind like lazy, half-lost tunes.
On somnolent unchanging afternoons
of peppercorns and small white daytime moons,
I dreamed of drama, storm, and high regalia –
and now of those unchanging afternoons
in somnolent long summers of Australia.
10/1/10
Steamy Nights
Steamy nights
on this tree-thick hill
my grey cat
sits silent
on the top step, keeping guard
while we toss in heat.
9/1/10
on this tree-thick hill
my grey cat
sits silent
on the top step, keeping guard
while we toss in heat.
9/1/10
Tanka on Tuesday: December 2009
3/12/09
at this time of year
before long lazy summer
inexplicably
time speeds up to a gallop
leaving us frantic, breathless
5/12/09
Inspired by a Bette Norcross Wappner woodcut
(which — sorry! — you can only see if you're a LiveJournal member)
the vast landscape
goes to sleep in the cold
hunkering down
beside a sentinel tree
and a lone bonfire
8/12/09
all night
the smell of smoke
seeps indoors
from forest fires
two hillsides away
9/12/09
the smoke dies
the fire is contained
rain falls
I breathe and remember
my friend lately dead
15/12/09
rain
on a warm morning
breakfast
surrounded by sound
and that fresh smell
17/12/09
rain slowly dripping
from the underside of leaves
after the downpour
I remember my childhood
and the smell of the wet green
22/12/09
the new home is high
to catch the summer breezes
Phil’s painting it now
in six more days we move in
there’s a huge rosemary bush
**********************************
Midsummer Sabbat
the old coven reconvenes
from all directions
the years since we last gathered
have seen us live our magick
30/12/10
raining in Condong
don't take the steep hilly road
but up the highway
turning in at Chinderah
high out of flood range but flat
moving in the wet
Pottsville to Murwillumbah
and back many times
the new garage filling up
boxes and boxes and box...
at this time of year
before long lazy summer
inexplicably
time speeds up to a gallop
leaving us frantic, breathless
5/12/09
Inspired by a Bette Norcross Wappner woodcut
(which — sorry! — you can only see if you're a LiveJournal member)
the vast landscape
goes to sleep in the cold
hunkering down
beside a sentinel tree
and a lone bonfire
8/12/09
all night
the smell of smoke
seeps indoors
from forest fires
two hillsides away
9/12/09
the smoke dies
the fire is contained
rain falls
I breathe and remember
my friend lately dead
15/12/09
rain
on a warm morning
breakfast
surrounded by sound
and that fresh smell
17/12/09
rain slowly dripping
from the underside of leaves
after the downpour
I remember my childhood
and the smell of the wet green
22/12/09
the new home is high
to catch the summer breezes
Phil’s painting it now
in six more days we move in
there’s a huge rosemary bush
**********************************
Midsummer Sabbat
the old coven reconvenes
from all directions
the years since we last gathered
have seen us live our magick
30/12/10
raining in Condong
don't take the steep hilly road
but up the highway
turning in at Chinderah
high out of flood range but flat
moving in the wet
Pottsville to Murwillumbah
and back many times
the new garage filling up
boxes and boxes and box...
Book by Cover
for Collin
A lone tree in a field.
He likes that image –
used it once, briefly,
for an online profile
and here, more permanently,
on the cover of his first book.
The field is always
flat and unrelieved,
sparse grass.
The tree is always
the focal point:
sturdy, spreading
I like the strong trunk,
the generous width
of branches opening
to cup the air
and reaching, stretching:
bold, with delicate tendrils.
But wait. Is it light
that touches every surface –
trunk, branches, twigs?
Or a coating of lichen?
I look hard and see
no leaves. Is it snow?
“Better to Travel”
the title says.
I have seen snow
but not often,
and only on
high mountains.
I travel anyway
through the poems
and know their author
can weather storm,
ice, rain, all kinds of
dying, and stand.
18/12/09
Inspired by Collin Kelley's Better to Travel
A lone tree in a field.
He likes that image –
used it once, briefly,
for an online profile
and here, more permanently,
on the cover of his first book.
The field is always
flat and unrelieved,
sparse grass.
The tree is always
the focal point:
sturdy, spreading
I like the strong trunk,
the generous width
of branches opening
to cup the air
and reaching, stretching:
bold, with delicate tendrils.
But wait. Is it light
that touches every surface –
trunk, branches, twigs?
Or a coating of lichen?
I look hard and see
no leaves. Is it snow?
“Better to Travel”
the title says.
I have seen snow
but not often,
and only on
high mountains.
I travel anyway
through the poems
and know their author
can weather storm,
ice, rain, all kinds of
dying, and stand.
18/12/09
Inspired by Collin Kelley's Better to Travel
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