March 31 - Myopia

Perhaps this is not the condition
of politics I've believed it was.

Perhaps it has nothing to do with
the structure of the eye, its health.

Perhaps it is a disease that strikes us all
in the face of the planet's enormity

and our realisation of insignificance.
Perhaps it is the human condition.

March 30 - Mummify

Tutankhamen is coming to town!
Icon of duty and power in youth
he speaks to millions in tongues.

We are entering the years before
Christ brought The Truth to light.
Let us worship another king.

For his time, not important.
But we know his place,
Preserved in gold: a serene face.

March 29 - Mind

Invented by itself, the concept
and fact reflect a wish for
definition: in the Learner's
Dictionary, it takes up one
and a half columns. Then comes
the column on 'mind' as verb.

Mind has a lot to say about
itself. In other words, it speaks
its mind.

March 28 - Museum

For the first time
I notice the levels
of status among nuns
indicated by details
on habit.

They were sisters
of all those women
who conceal hair,
faces, everything
below the neck.

Now, without habit,
they are unknown,
unrecognised for
service, chastity,
essence of God.

They have denied
Sisterhood, become
invisible, pretending
to status determined
good by Other.

My daughter and I
the only two visitors.
Raised in Catholic town
I marvel at the power
of story, and habit.

March 27 - Mona's

Harvest festival. The falafel light
designed to last, the aftertaste so
delicate. A good black coffee - not
always the way in this era of coffee
branding, claims of superiority.

A family of three next to me; the boy
tosses a cloth ball soft with stuffing;
he would rather play something
than sit watching parents sip coffee.
The ball strikes my handbag, a soft plea.

Our town so small, every enterprise
a hit or miss. The parents snatch the ball
apologise to me; I am mortified. The boy
compliant. No complaint. How trying
this modern numbing of the young.

Everyone who leaves the outdoor cafe
thanks the staff for a good meal.
The neighbouring family leaves, the boy
skipping. I enjoyed my coffee. The staff,
Middle Eastern, look up as I leave.

I thank them. It is the way. Our town
so small, this day a unique opportunity -
to hit or miss. The boy and his ball
carried away, the parents wishing
their son could always catch.

March 26 - Marching

We are the estates
climbing your valley's slopes.
We are here to restore
life on the crusted farmlands.

See how our trees grow,
watch the forest that follows us.

Soon, you will have to hunt
in the undergrowth
for evidence this land was bad.
We are the climate change.

See how our trees grow,
watch the forest that follows us.

We are an army, a secret
mission. On the surface
we are too many building sites
but we are the climate of change.

See how our trees grow,
watch the forest that follows us.

March 25 - Mother's Desktop

The swan
is a tiny shadow
on the huge sheet
of Coorong water
behind my two grown
children.

At first, I didn't notice it.

The shadow made
by the sun, using my children
as template, stretches
across the front
of the photograph.

At first I didn't notice it.

What I do notice
is the light on water
the light in my children's eyes
the light in my heart
every time I turn on
my laptop.

I now realise shadows
are created where there is light.
Without them, we wouldn't notice it.