Heavy is the night Lays shadows on my walls Deep dark holes across the floor Captured all that's gone before Thoughts climb up and out To alight upon the morn Steady is the hand To carve a quiver to a quill Dip its nib into the will Paint pictures with words While the mind is sharp and still For prowl the hour of the wolf All that is gone is done All that is left is spent Thoughts like pennies drop Into a stream of consciousness Slumber returns as if she never left
Oft times truly startling Sitting in urban chic window Scouring faces for reminiscing Begone eras of small city life Flash before my eyes. Still, side by side Caught a glimpse of spectacles nestled Perusing the menu Curls dapple the light Listening to mouth and eyes, stout and wine Slowly, savouring Drinking them in While presence is bestowed Upon mine
Giggle Appear older, naive Ask of other's realities Deny one's own Speak well of all authority Dwell in the home Wear brown, baggy clothing No colour or lipstick Kiss your mother goodbye Hug anyone who asks for it Do not resist the crowd Silence a quiet scream Obedience a vow
Do not confuse silence For innocence of years Nor err of grace Forgiveness as No evidence of blame For all the words Daggers and cloaks Stored up for wintry days Till sunny spring A friendly ear Does melt such icy ways
Richea Scoparia at Lake Dobson, Mt Field National Park
Similarities are endless The only colourful one Takes to the mountains At Christmas time Dances in the sunlight Show of flit and wit Across the sky Then disappears before your eyes Waiting all year long To catch a glimpse of wing tips like blue eyes So it is, with you and I
For nigh on a decade Enchanted by tales Of wildest places Where rough edges Bleed out to sea Coarsing through veins Lungs of the world Clutching the land For all its worth From those who take, take..
I trip tentatively Through swathes of natives Unknowingly trampling Rare plants Smudging invasive seed Into mud with sodden tread
No permission to collect I take and take, greedily Hoping vainly To strike a fragile quill A tendril root, a mere bud To bring home all I love
But instead, I raised beds Of shrunken dried specimens Memories snipped from whence they came Never to grow again. Now I learn and dissect Identify how similar or different The naming of all things Already taken place A namesake now only left For stone engraving.