on your pages
are my connections.
a calling forth,
you re-appear in my
Actors from my being with,
come to me,
and make me remember.
She creaks, she creaks
I lay hidden
from the world
on my belly.
Softened by handfuls of her tiny leaves
a bed, a bed to lay on.
Time and fallen leaves making a bed
for me to lay on.
Filtering through tiny leaves
light reaches my upturned face.
it finds me,
At some point we had all walked the Trail,
over many years, decades.
Some only once, others many times.
A community of people grows out of this walk,
time and place.
If not on the Trail, somehow,
we find each other.
A convergence of trails,
a convergence of stories.
Connecting, meeting, resonating.
sensing, presencing in
Creating the reality or facade of ‘other’,
protection from the outside?
And what is inside?
What flows in-between?
like the earth. Textured like the earth.
Mirror or seamless continuation?
Allowing sensitivities to be touched.
So too the native bees, lizards and birds.
A brutal pruning,
outside my window.
Perhaps a neat and tamed form to some,
But I dream
of the wispy new
luscious green branches and leaves.
This is where the grey goshawk had perched,
calculating so carefully.
Could it take the sand monitor below?
I stare outside this window
Feel the essence of these plants,
May new shoots
be born from rising humidity,
new growth sprout in UNRULY form.
connected silence, in
conversation with country.
Words as feelings,
passing through the soles of my feet.
Tone changes as we leave
pandanas forest and rise over dunes.
Serge of excited babble as we
onto a stretch of white sandy beach.
Blue, blue, blue
screaming at me…
Hurry up! Dive!
But when we get to the freshwater paperbark,
you tell me
Conversation finds its way into
Black and blue dancers
float under the canopy.
Never touching the ground.
Filed under Poetry, Walking