the moon grows full in an april sky and still the world is quiet – humans gone to roost a great clattering noise of centuries suddenly stopped when hope returned to the city streets it came with claw and hoof and webbed toes scrabbling on the pavement. it padded and clattered patterned fur and…
with mud soaked leaf hands we greet the sodden sky gulping mouthfuls of drizzle cloud from the road down the driveway water snakes and froths its way to the contour ponds brimming now with new rain and frogsong.
it was my plan all along to lie down there among the twigs and fallen leaves, let the forest have me because there is something in my bones that does not know these days can’t taste the sunlight or feel vast oceans pulse in the night. three days now the snail has been sleeping on…
there is nothing to be said of what was or might be on days like these when the tang sweet of summer leans light into autumn and fruit hangs full round on the trees.
there were big windows, wooden floors and an indoor quiet that made our ears hum. it was monday morning after a favourite uncle’s birthday on the weekend i had made him a card drawn flowers because he like them copied in my newly acquired hand Dear Les HAPPY BIRTHDAY Love Lindi it took me most…
sunbird against the window this morning first light must have come in through the new opened door purring wings against the glass quicker than the cat i cover her in hands still the beating wings feel her long beak find rest between fingers outside above the valley i slowly release her body no bigger…
sometimes i went with my mother to work night duty at the old-age home in town trailing quiet shadow behind her on the evening round out to the rooms and through frail care. there was a woman there i don’t know her name, they were all mr and mrs somebody to a seven year…
there is a touch of crazy on the wind today though the air, pushed warm and dry from an invisible north beyond the mountains hardly moves at all. like living on borrowed air the day breathes shallow, toads have taken the ponds sitting silent amongst the lilly pads their measured breath rippling the water…
it is the simplest thing to swallow the earth small seeds yield green leaves bright against rich soil – handfuls of greens fresh chopped with sharp garlic and moistened with olive oil spooned generous onto pasta new rolled and hung on the elder staff to dry. it is the simplest thing to eat the earth…
eventually the streptocarpus will fall its sky petals to the quiet water below like the weight of all that beauty in the world becomes just too heavy to hold.