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overcast sky again this morning
not a breath of wind
birds busy
grey clouds a backdrop
to the distant dark
mountains that were
now wooded hills
silent
close by a magpie carols
willy wagtail inspecting the patio vines
looking for a nesting site
tawny frogmouths murmering
their presence
dare to say "yes"
to this day......
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let me embrace you
so we can go through
that gate together
and find that which
we both deeply long for
and which will sustain us
to live life
as we are meant to....
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looking at the white faced heron
looking for the frog it longs to eat
the holm oak shades the water lillies
that shade the frog and goldfish
sadness knows not all three
can live to bring forth young
to populate the little space
beneath the towering gum trees
in blazing heat and temperatures
that forge steel
fish are silent frogs croak
white faced heron flies off
sadness sighs relief
turns to get on with the day....
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Sun up showers the Holm oak
with gold silent light
there is no loud fanfare
except in my heart
responding with awe
noiseless light fills cracks
where shadows cannot respond
gold starts the day
no matter how bleak the news
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on grey pavers red brick streets to a canal
shipping barges of vegetables to market
a long sea journey to a distant land
of drought heat yellow waterless plains
from that country green and lush
overgrown with people
she learned to ride a horse on those
crisp dry hills mustering sheep
shooting rabbits foxes breathing clouds
of dust in cattle yards
living in numerous dwellings
made livable by her welcoming havens
after long hard days
she buried her mother then her youngest son
next her beloved first husband
her father then a dear sister and older brother
and finally her second husband
in the early morning she sits now
contemplates the tall eucalypts
and the grey zen birds.....
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that vast background to our lives
when we are alone simple yet its complexity
can bring on either despair
or a surge of creativity
trees stand there each day tall or squat
they do not ponder what could be done today
storms bend them sun burns them
their shade remains to shelter all
they drop their bark and stand
among their litter of leaves and twigs
boredom, they say ha ha
just stand still and let things be......
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can become an elegy
or shall we sit here
watching the wood duck
swimming in the pond
amid the duck weed
and water milfoil
listening to the wattle bird
beaks clackety clacking
in the winpara gem grevillia
feeling the cool east wind
soothing our skin
such is the day
who would reject that?
