Saturday, July 31, 2010



sun's warmth:
coat can flap, undone
golden wattle glows

a woman I pass
looks sad on my behalf
but I can walk! Who needs
hands for that!

the perfume of eucalyptus
bark mulch, two magpies
and I entranced by sunlight.

Friday, July 30, 2010



the steak is eaten
before it hits the plate
teeth already know its taste
through smell and steam

the green vegetables melt
into three distinct flavours
wrap around steak to show
love for blood and pepper

we made the meal together
my daughter and I
it's that fact, not the flavours
that leave such a happy aftertaste.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

And Also


Sudden happiness!
Until I try to hold it.
The sun behind cloud.


Thursday, at work

The man opposite me
is unhappy all day.

I would like to drench
him in happiness

and that reminds me
of sheep, and the story

my friend told me
about sheep fallen over

in the truck bound for
docks, the sheep bound

in ungainly fallen postures
possibly dying before

sighting - for the first time
- the sea, foreign shores.

The man opposite me
is woolly in his unhappiness

and talking to him, i feel
as if i am speaking 

in a language unrecognisable
except to animal liberationists.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

And Also


Running water
flushing the river's reedy bed.
So fresh, the frogs are back.
We stop to thank them.




Jeffery bounces on the track.
his four legs like sticks
first the front, then the back.

Jill walks like any other dog
two left, two right
sniff and pee at every log.

Jeffery searches weed patch, bush
for new delights, but
abandons all for tush.

Come here, come here! we cry in vain.
When he's ready, he's
on the trail again.

Meanwhile Jill has done her poo
in trackside grass
and covered it too.

Jill's on the lead, she's not trusted
while Jeffery's freedom
is never curtailed, adjusted. 

Two small dogs on the river walk
with two women, sisters -
just happy to talk.



to sing with another
to harmonize
to bring forth one
with two notes
always surprises

to learn to dress
with one hand
to remove lids
with one hand
is worth learning

to remember the art
of making requests
to discover the song
in mouth, not throat
makes me happy

p.s. it's not my writing wrist
that's sprained!

Monday, July 26, 2010



wrist in sling
from having
fallen on saturday
three hours
with doctors
& walking

my house guest
young man
son of a dear friend
taking photos
on the freeway bridge
(he hates heights
forgot that)

he has salted
my weedy paths
loves our trees
and versions
of acacia
(african but
had never seen
peppercorn trees)

work done
the scraping
and cupboard door
of someone else

going down
pain lessening
nothing to do
but be happy

Friday, July 23, 2010


The Walk To Come

it will be dark
but not hostile
it will be
a walk in the park
but not admiring
flowers, litter
it will be mingling
with homeward traffic:
feet and tyres
sing me on the way
to literary study
at the closest pub

Thursday, July 22, 2010


The Walk I Didn't Have

Late start.
Staff heads down.
Finance Manager's day off.
Almost five o'clock
still processing.
It's raining so much
the skyscrapers
occupy, displace cloud.

Feet tapping
testing the air.
Dry, impatient.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Treasure on the Pavement

South Melbourne
silence a block away
from Kingsway
quieter than my
country town.

Shadows and damp
promise of cluttered
warmth through
windows lit like hearths.

Blue carpet rolls
for the picking
up. I return, sling
two in my Echo's
cavern. I'll come back
tomorrow, I think

but don't. That too
is the joy of discovery
and return to worn path:
choosing no to it.

Monday, July 19, 2010


Looking for Lunch

It's freezing in the street!
This bakery has run out of soup
the staff at the other is blind
and deaf to new orders
filling the old with swift feet.
The cafe is too far, we need
food! Now! Make do

with a tiddly oggie and sausage roll
at Fergusson Plarre, which
you say you hate. The pastry
pays you back, flying
into your lap, all over the table
leaping away from your fork.
Yet we are satisfied

and sing brilliantly
at the Relay for Life fundraiser
fuelled by thoughts of cream cake
made by light fingers.
For that, we don't even have to
brace against cold, or
stagger into a bitter wind.

We open our mouths
to sing sweetly.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


Along Familiar Paths

There's work to do.
Carpet underlay
to overlay couch grass
and its bright green
companions - calendula,
oats, and leafy greens
unworthy of name.

To have a companion
grown strong and muscled
carry the bolts of fibrous matter
is a privilege those young
plants are denied.

Nor do they have 
an appreciation for
the Magpies' win
over Saints.

In the Silver Princesses
- legitimate rulers of this
wild back yard - three
gorgeous Eastern Rosellas
discuss the safety
of dining here, dare

and declare us
acceptable companions
at meal time.

Friday, July 16, 2010


Tours of Southbank, southern end

The bars and cafes close
as a sign it's time
to head homeward. Thus
they are in step with our urge
to eat, drink and gossip
somewhere else, not here
not where vehicle emissions
create a thirst, expensive banks
of yuccas look too good to eat
and climbing steps to glass doors
sitting inside a set box of noise
smiling seems incongruous
when sitting in a car
seriously alone
makes sense
after a day idling in front
of service desks and tills.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

WALKING 2 (the 100th post)

Entering & Exiting  the Hall of Extraction

Counting the steps is no option.
Imagining life without you
is necessary. I say goodbye
as I walk in. Being blissfully
oblivious to the main game:
twenty minutes/two series of injections
five or six sharp stabs each
(a small pinch, he calls it)
is a blessing. He is a nice man
removing you with finesse.
Walking out I still don't count steps.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Triangular Walk: Lerderderg River, Farmland, Avenue of Honour

1. The young tall trees and mature bushes 
     sway and brush against one another
     fling like flames to the wind's bellows.
     Even the newly-planted, steadied 
     by plastic sheaths and stakes
     twist and shake, apparently delighted
     at being whisked about so briskly
     by a foreign power, faceless, fun-loving.

2.  While I plod
     equal to air's push
     determined to complete
     one thousand steps.

3.  Leafless, the memorial elms
     stand stiffly to attention, rigid
     in ridged bark armour, faithful
     to their reason for being.
     Only at their flimsier edges
     does the wind call forth
     signs of life: slight shivers.

4. Blue wrens.
    A roaming dog.
    Red crates.
    Pickers in fluoro.
    A pair of magpies.
    Bright parrots.

    One thousand
    six hundred
    and thirty-eight