Fleet Like Deer

Here’s a little wishful thinking for this overcast day in Melbourne … Looking forward to sunshiney days.

The horizon is clear
and halcyon blue
spring lightly
hand in hand
and fleet like deer, dear
we may race fast enough
to catch the glorious sun
and burn in its fire, and burn.

Spring’s on the horizon!

Sunday, 14 October, 2012 :: 20:43:49Spring is coming! The prospect makes me want to jump in sheer excitement. Supposedly laughter is the best medicine, but I reckon sunshine is pretty darned good too.

The horizon is clear
and halcyon blue
spring lightly
hand in hand
and fleet like deer, dear
we may race fast enough
to catch the glorious sun
and burn in its fire, and burn.

The Whirlwind Descends

The Whirlwind Descends, part 1 :: 24/10/12, 9:27:23 PMSometimes I close my eyes and I see a film unfolding. Here’s one, inspired by the sound of an endless throb overhead: I seem to live beneath the flight path of helicopters. Sometimes they crisscross the sky in the middle of the night and drag me to wakefulness, other times they infuriate while I watch an actual film, and am forced to pause until they pass out of hearing. Time to make use of their annoyance … I wrote this straight out in one draft in twenty minutes using the iPhone app Type-Writer, and I rather like it.

The Whirlwind Descends, part 2 :: 24/10/12, 9:35:09 PMThe Whirlwind Descends, part 3 :: 24/10/12, 9:40:45 PMThe Whirlwind Descends, part 4 :: 24/10/12, 9:47:26 PM

overhead
in the yellow uneasy sky
a helicopter chops
an omnipresent threat
hangs in the air
waiting
for movement
the throb the infinite
heartbeat does not stop

we stand
beneath its immensity
the dry heat
sucks all hope
like moisture from our mouths
our hearts drown
beneath the weight of sound
we cannot feel our pulses beat

fear has no name
sight has no hope
smell has a whirlwind
stirred up, like ashes
taste in our mouths
touch feels your fingers grip
hearing turned to stone

waiting has no end
redemption choked off
the whirlwind descends
the heartbeat engulfs
the wrench
what is done
cannot be undone
at the end.

Some Days Have No Soundtrack

Some Days Have No Soundtrack :: 17 November, 2012On those quiet days when I walk in the gardens and the wind blows in my hair as fiercely as in the trees above … those days have no soundtrack, just the murmuring of my thoughts – and drifting daydreams.

Trees at Dusk :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Plate // No flash :: 29 April, 2013

O What a Beautiful Morning!

What a beautiful morning :: Abbie // Dixie // No flashThis was yesterday’s morning sky. Isn’t it beautiful? It makes me feel the glory of being alive. And the Little Fancy comes from a spring afternoon from last November.

Little white clouds :: November 10th, 2012, 5:17:14pm

Little white clouds
sail through the sky
like marshmallow puffs,
on their way to die
from roasting in the fire

but the sun,
the sun is kinder
and merely chases them away.