O Christmas Tree

Hello my ancient friend
May I place yet another
Hand on your leg?
Will you spill all secrets
In this brief meeting?
How you thrived
Thousands of adoring
Visitors while growing
Silently, unnoticed
Our footsteps heralded
By birdsong
We celebrate the girth
Of your waist
While post-luncheon
Walkers remark on
New year's resolutions
Aimed at winding back
Time and growth
Of their appearance
It must seem
Very primitive thinking
To such a wise one
Of your worth
The Octopus Tree on kunanyi, Mt Wellington Tasmania

Sun kissed

Summer solstice and the air is swimming with insects
Rays scoop down to bathe kangaroo grass heads golden
Swaying on waves of breeze surfing on treetops
To break the back of the working week is to finish at midday on Friday
Roll down to the bay with windows down and radio blaring
The kissed sound of a tinnie opening
Smacked on lips evokes guttural sighs and closed eyes smiles all around me
She was brazen as one of the locals
Sandy haired and sun kissed freckled skin chilled as southern air embraces her
First one in heckling others to obey her invitation
Then she'd disappear under the waves to shed her worries
No one ever looked at her sideways
Pirates Bay Lookout

Liquid light

On the spectrum from belief
To nilpotent
I may be strung along
Like a row of pearls
When lightning strikes
The heart of her
She ignites
Fuels her desire
My sweet exterior melts
Reduced to a puddle
To mirror her exuberance
To the sky
Till she hides under blanket
For the night
Summer solstice in Tasmania

Star signs

My youngest was born
On your birthday
All those years ago
He is kind, wise and generous
Born under the same sign

I'd lost memories like quicksand
Till I saw you, resurrected
Now I have dreams to protect you
From prying lips and eyes

All hours I spent
Watching, wondering
Which words would suffice to say
Now I clumsily write them down
In hope for brighter days

I left the lap of nature
For a piece on heritage street
Left behind a part of me
I am yet to retrieve

I long to nurture another
Tending to their wounds
Catching any words that fall
Just like you did for me

Nature therapy

If the push pull
Of love seems tough
Remember how to keep
Your heart tender

Recall the one lost
Push back her hair
Hold her cheek
Listen to her speak

Let her words seep
Into the cracks
Unkempt skin
Grown thick

Only to peel away
Layers of regret
Reveal a fine form
Of kind understanding

The maker

Flicker. Fade. Ignite.
Line of sight
As grey goshawk peers
Down at maker's fingers
Plying spoils of earth
Like she toys with prey
Watching
Ruminating creative urge
Gives birth to treasure
Of unmeasured worth
Polished pleasure
First ever seen by
Naked eyes
Akin to mother earth
Fragility of life
In this temporal sphere
Only compounds her worth

Hinterland

A stirring from cavernous 
Subterranean layers
Within me release
Seismic activity
Barely touches
The needle

Blossoming upwards
Blissful pockets
Of breath rising
Hinterland well spring

It bursts through
Surface though
No one hears
Air shifts feathers
Goodbye
For now
Lake Dobson, Mt Field National Park, Tasmania