Ode to the day

One clear day
When sky lids
Close half over
Weep gently

Pull on seal
Skin over
Locking in
Blood warmth

Cacophony of
Metered out
In spades

Splash of cymbals
Crash of waves
Roll of tides
Wash round headland

Where Antarctic
And Eastern
Currents meet
Across my face

Tingles up
Spine lest

Tick and slip
Shells and silk
Fronds of green
Stick to shore

Long to cover
Over me
Once more round
Mind wander

Thinking space
Underneath glassy
Mirror of sky
Face hides

Quiet applause
Of claws
Mussels galore
Conquest of sorts

Long length
Of the bay

Adventure Bay, Bruny Island lutruwita / Tasmania


In the harvest moon
Gathering in treasure
From earth’s bed
Storing up long winter

Sometimes applied
To endearing friends
Just as the chill
Sits heavy on mountain

Ringed peak
Like dormant volcano
Absorbing peach sunrise
As ancient desert rock

Sky tinged with frost
Reminiscent golden
Long summer days
Glinting in eye

Love’s storehouse
Slips through fingers
Like shiny coins
Offered to buy freedoms

In a time of plenty
Store and save
Simple pleasures
For long dark days

A treasure is she
Whose girth rings
Pale in comparison
Wise watching over me

Bruny Island lutruwita / Tasmania

Love like

An aviary
A warm unassuming place
Resting among
Like feathered friends
An open door
To the sky
Admired for a whole array
Of vibrant colours
Soft embrace
Hiding under
Ruffled feathers
Smoothed by momentary
Saving grace
Housekeeping covers over
Communal mess forgave
Late night banter
Turns hiding eyes
Into morning wonder
Respite from furred
Early warnings
Chorus of song
Greets early risers
Refrain unending
Oft recited
Many lifetimes
Lived long

Poised for posterity

Single woman cast into
The outback to attend to
Learning of young ones
Bright eyes blinking
Out the windows
To the river leading
To the open sea
Thoughts drifting
Past sand bars
Shore birds nesting
Raising young
Where ancestors raised
A barrel to the sky
For sport or feathered
Game on dinner table
Singular woman
Opens the door
To conserve a future
For the world
Where the lives of
The smallest voiceless
Are preserved

Schoolhouse c1830 Coal River Valley

Boarding party

The art of detecting
Always on the lookout
For one who gives freely
Permission to pop in
Seems to know intuitively
A weekend is free
Calls on lonely lunch break
Just to squeeze it in
Conversation starter
Halts but never really ends
Rescues end of week
With a glass of best red
If followed by few more
There’s always a spare bed
No matter how many
Months between
We pick up where we left
Though many held and cherished
Know love is a true friend

I would rather

Be poor and in love
Living on tea and vegies

Hear love sing out loud
Than make up songs about it

Live in a yurt fancy free
Than find a home without you

Stay, wait and wonder
Than solo sail world round

See your face again
Than know everything about you

Close my eyes and count to ten
Than hide in the dark to be found

To learn of love

Vast eye in the sky
Long lashes in clouds
Tells me all I learned
From love

How to sing
Sonnets day long
While silent

Gently playing
Vinyl rotating
Turn a trite saying
Into midnight devotion

How to be singular
In constant conversation
With absent lover

Find common ground
With old objects
Of affection

A face blushed
Shining for another
Telling what one
Is capable of

Existing in skin
No trading it in
A lifetime lived
In imagination

To wake with dawn
Cradle in arms
A babe of newborn

Spirit of content
Breathes within
While flotsam
Swirl, slip downstream

Whispers and gossip
Trade ways to leave
Such thoughts here
Are homeless

There body aches
No explanation
Tall tales begging
To leave again

Love well taught
Who saddles
Dark mountain