Friday, October 09, 2015

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.'


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

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?







Monday, April 13, 2015

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!

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