In A Moment

A holiday today, a long weekend

Mum wouldn't know it, every day is the same now

Spring too, the parade of flowers has begun -

the heavenly sweet citrus sepals of Daphne,

late Winter really, she didn't sense it pass

the temperature is constant in the nursing home,

she knows hot and cold, sometimes she is so cold.

The golden wattle shouts her Spring proclamation.

Mum's senses deteriorate, where once she could hear

the sweet swing band surge and feel the tight

syncopated rhythm quicken her pulse

all so long ago, now she looks significantly

as though you've said something

of import, her surge and swing evanescent

evading her recall, with the salty wild pheromone

of a dancing partner, 'never the same each night!'

she'd toast and laugh, a mischievous twinkle

in her eyes, that right now are shutting down.

The pink mouthed magnolia beseeches the sky.

'I might tell my secrets with a top up of wine'

and she clutched them close for their warmth in the night.

The cherry tree weeps all her tiny white tears.

She strains for words, names, then in a moment

of clarity, 'I know, I know what I must do.'

Canberra - Winter into Spring 2015

Overnight the long daffodil stalks

blew their yellow flowers.

Now the heads bow

in amazement.

Look how far we are!

As evening descends,

the tree beyond the pathway

is crackling with Indian Mynas

in communal roost.

Watch the birds gather

yellow beaked squadrons

perched on the power lines.

They peel off in operation

dart and disappear into the din.

The electricity of chatter

wires the tree in a cacophony

of Indian bird tongue. Is it excitement

or argument? A mating ritual?

Our neighbour Liz has a trap

bated and ready to neuter threat

to the native species.

Once captured they will be transported

to silence.

I suspect they have her measure.

The lime tree is festooned

with yellow eggs of fruit.

Overnight another scattering

will drum the earth.

Rain yesterday morning segued to a sparkling day.

On the Ridge a fox was taking a stroll and sniff,

and two roos contended in a dignified biff

while females grazed, it seemed, in indifferent display.

A brown falcon flew from tree to tree
pursued in magpie territory.

A column of small canny flies danced.

Some in the shade and some in the sun, perchance... much like us.

A male Dance Fly will lure a female to courtship

with a captured insect bound in a ball of froth.

Sometimes they present the insect unadorned.

And sometimes a male will trick a female

with a silken balloon, blown from below.

The fortunate female now distracted by the lure

will consume her nuptial gift, or consider a glistening

ball of silk, while the male will take his pleasure.

Much like us?

All on a Bali Morning

A spider thread moves slowly past my gaze

the world is wreathed in silken drift.

Doves call three times in morning praise

and Chanticleer proclaims his watch.

Yesterday Eloise,

a proud four fingers, danced upon an ant

a large tractor ant with grasshopper legs

Forged in antiquity, a space age design

and it retaliated and seized her

skin in its mandibles. A shriek, and sobs

in mother's arms, and I located the ant

damaged but operational, moving,

and I lifted it with a leaf and placed

it in greenery. 'How karmic' said Cara.

This morning

we found a column of ants

close to where I had placed the injured beastie.

They were marching into the bedroom for munchies

so Denise instinctively grabbed the Baygon.

Pressed the button.

Nuked the little buggers.

Afterwards we mentioned the ant invasion

to our local manager who suggested drawing

a line at the threshold, a sort of magical deterr-ant.

The manager, Made, gave us a durian.

Do you know the durian? It is a

heavy armour plated thorny husk,

an ancient weapon, which encases

the King of Fruits. It effuses humus

or mouldy Camembert, and some say -

so glibly I think - sewage or a rank

damp trainer. You might say the heaviest

aroma of sweet decaying strawberry.

Yes, earthy, primal, insistent

it evacuates lifts, hotels, hospitals and wives.

The pods await resplendent in regal

butter beds

and their flavour yes, is almost

indescribable:

a hint of spring onion and almond perhaps

the texture silky soft, succulent,

richly creamily custardly smooth;

the omnipotence unassailable.

Our neighbour Jim from San Fran - on the Bay

landed in hospital today – Honey where you been?

You really must get out more! – The dengue has him by the

melodramas – Babe, this rash ain't no match for my glamorama!