Neil at Twin Waters

The small stone he found on the path

is almost square, but spiky. 

At first it looks grey –

but when he licks his finger 

and strokes the surface

it lights up with bright orange stripes 

and patches of mustardy gold.

He brings it to my patio, and sits down.

'Let's write poems together.

Let us write small stones

about this small stone.'

His red T-shirt matches

the maple leaf on his cap.

He is learning Australian birds –

northern Australian birds –

Bush Turkey, Ibis, Coocal, 

Lorikeets and Swallows (can they be 

Swallows? Yes, they swoop)

how to tell Magpies from Butcher Birds ...

or Wallabies from Kangaroos.

He is discovering the habits of lizards:

young Eastern Water Dragons.

He picks up the stone

which he has placed on the table,

bending over it intently

to examine its intricacies

and casual secrets. Here is

a half-moon indentation, here

is the shape of a face.

The small stone becomes

important as a mountain, 

craggy and wild. He thinks

of taking it home. (He will ask it.)

I've been reunioning with Canadian poet Neil Meili and his partner Dorsey Cartwright, whom I met in Austin, Texas 10 years ago. She is Texan, and they spend time in both places – and lately, to my joy, are on a brief visit to Australia.

Linking this to Poets United's Midweek Motif: Appreciation