home

There are two Southern Right whales off the coast here, in the bay about 200 metres off Seal Rock (Port Elliot, South Australia). A mother and her calf. Over the last dozen or so years whales have started coming back here in the winter before returning to Antarctic waters in September. So these two are late in leaving. It may be that the mother is waiting for her calf to put on more weight.


Nearby is Victor Harbor, which in the 1800's was a whaling port. or a long time whales, having been mercilessly hunted, stopped coming here.



Their return  speaks of their deep intelligence, the deep mystery of life, places of home known so deeply, even when not visited for a century and more.



No wonder we watch spell bound. Perhaps there's an opportunity to return to wonder in life?

Bubbled

I tell myself I've moved on
gone beyond that old refrain
walked the long lone bridge
away from the clouds

of our unbecoming
you said

your body's silky touch
silver Celtic brooch

moon sung white skin

linger in my mind
no matter how hard I try
the bridge that stretches
and now divides
still unites the you that I knew

with the me who walks

so that I must get off the road
walk the beach let the sea
cool my feet put my hands in the clouds
let the water rush over and around me

sky lit, washed, tidal.

Spring Days

Spring Equinox here in Australia. In Victor Harbor, it's been a cold and wet winter after a very slow start. In fact, it seemed winter would never come. And when it did, it brought in some places higher rainfall than normal. So much so most people have been wondering whether winter would ever end!
Tonight, even though the temperature's not that high, it seems different, warmer inside, not so hard to heat the house.

So it's time to till the soil of life. At the same time, it's also good to reflect on what's being put to rest, what's going into the cave of darkness, the point of origin and return.


The dog's happy- more walks on her favourite beach!

Stillness

Stillness
You always hinted you’d leave
I never heard that then
missed the cues
the little twist of the mouth
far away look
head turned away
words askew
as if carried by another current
a shore only you could land on.

Stairways at Eleven

Creative Writing Ink Exercise August 23



Slanted days arranged like
the lines of your pictures
so hard to know whether you

were coming or going


what drew you to those places
edges emptied but framed
witnessed by the leaves
and shadows of people
walking the unknown

Blue Tongued Day: Creative Writing Ink photo of August 3

Sky Fields

She took him to the edge of the field
where the blue flowers had begun their bloom

He was blind. She moved his hand
to one of the flowers. He sighed as his fingers

first one then another, touched the outburst
of blue; a shiver ran up his spine; a lone tear

bubbled. How many are here he asked. Enough
she said and moved his hand to where there

there were more. I can feel them going into the earth
and talk with the air; they are rich with sun

He stayed still, quiet now so she steadied him
her hands on his back and shoulder. The land

tilts, he said. I can hear the clouds. There are people
buried here, close, long ago. This is a dreamers

sky road that goes past the trees and the mound.
The earth remembers. Yes she said, you are right

here you are buried, here you return.

Writing Exercixe: Creative Writing Ink (Ireland)

How many shadows to a life?