Homes
Mangrove river tangled
crabby life scuttling
dark homes in greasy mud
egret stands silent
sentry in crocodile shadows
two moons on rippled water
concentric illusions
of home.
Yet chalky lighthouse beckons Firth of Clyde flickers womb-entangled country welcomes with uncanny ease molecules mesh in ambivalent blood music, mountains, companions connect memories in purple heather home
Echoes of childhood rain on weatherboard nostalgic hens scatter nectarine tree shades cubbies in cicada-throbbing bush fill empty careless days migrant parents claw from alien soil home
Through albums roam lives in warm embers illuminated mud walls guinea fowl panicked by pronking alpacas take fright and flight to the Morten Bay Fig Grandpa’s ashes buried beneath warm earth tear-stained bruised river flows through rock unbroken home.
On Indian Ocean black swan lullaby laps the soul through peppermint trees I carry suitcase, my cup of tea unpack family, friends, new grandson ravels my heart in milky hands waves on blood red sands sun sinks below western sea home.
Astride salt pan desert salt tears flow pale spinifex points to eastern forests clouds feed furious waters mosquitos mud mould two moons reflect mangrove river calls me home.
Please don’t throw your poetry-filled notebooks away Christine. They are so poignant. Perhaps as a canvas background? I recently bought a very large etching which has been printed on the backs of 100+ old postcards from new york. I love reading them.
Sounds lovely, but I have an image of me popping my cork one day and my family coming in, and shaking their heads at the number of books, journals, saved articles, before saying: ‘too hard’ and turfing everything in the bin.