Centuries of sandy foot prints Embedded in the shore Sure steps leading to waters edge Surveying the rip tide Wading safely to peel Tiny creatures away From their silken kelp Homes to adorn Dining tables laced with Filigree crochet And tall stories She places delicate treasures On her window sill To recall every Underwater adventure The hollow echo Of the conch's curl Beckons her to deep Longing for more Pearl shines in colours Glint of eye and Flash of teeth Sandy skin soft hairs Stand on end As the tide Her dreamscapes Roll in
In fiction I would be A tea and scones librarian With a secret archive The contents of which Was derived from many Hours of polite Conversations How the mind May wander Is a marvellous Thing indeed
L to R: by Jeff Mincham, Barbara Swarbrick and John Bartram ~ Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery
Odds for and against From the beginning Like scouring every beach For hidden treasure Buried in millions Grains of sand Stories of the past Washing over 'til hidden Lucid dreams and memories All that remains
As easy as it shone Summer is over Long nights are gone Behind closed lids New leaf tips arise Bulbs push above The memory never dies Else we delight In each day And every season Even rains fall All year round Eyes like the sky After a storm Mine clear Yours clouded Goodnight grey sky See you in the morning
Lead me out gingerly Tip toe on silken waves Embedded with shed Homes of crustaceans Talking about homeless A baby boomer Teaches me patience Let the body loose Long as peripheral System shuts down From the chill Conversation warms To the gills We wade, smiling Two women who flew South to nest At twenty eight Hardly recovered Making friends Everywhere we went Till we swim again Be well
Count the stars of heaven 