treescape in this forest closely-growing eucalypts stretch to the light intuitively seeking a better view here is shade under heavy foliage where nothing grows but an awareness of life’s empty spaces how very dark some tree trunks appear after solid…
the hours of shadow herald their arrival through moonglow leather of wing, they swoop to prance about the quandongs
sunburnt main street smiling faces, hats and boots behind doors sighing El Nino takes all breath away dust, smoke, tears in rural eyes
wetlands… two pacific black ducks glide past the reeds away from the madding crowd the world as it should be through the canopied bush track past glistening Yarra… our conversation gives way to the whispers of gums hitting the ball…
ficus trees stand watch in the old asylum grounds the lunatics have left colonial buildings crumbling in the summer rain moment to moment the changing hues of this harbour inlet under the matte blue of a windswept sky lunch break…
a grazing cow’s unfocused stare … mountain ash and giant chimneys fall unnoticed silt jetties fringing the Mitchell … memories of childhood play on narrow sands
London plane trees guardians of Picton town stand mortified morphed from grand to clown with gawdy fairy lights — Picton, NSW
autumn leaves a tourist attraction in Canberra — foreign embassies amongst exotic trees in our capital politicians pose for photos by the lake … a flock of galahs nearby settles to primp and preen willy wagtails dressed to the nines…
crack of dawn light pierces the quietude my breath meditation fuses with cicada song cremation urn … the empty house full of echoes your life’s belongings scattered on the patio in the cemetery a cracked tombstone lying on its side…
from Kata Tjuta’s red domed monoliths the wind laments across desert plains to solitary Uluru dawn breaks splashing the shore I collect shells and sea glass, wonder at their journeys at his grave beside fresh dug earth I’m surrounded by…
