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by Carl Walsh small sacrifice in slow scheme serrated drawn from hand or bite of wind at back structures beneath fold into furrow grey day keeps company ghosts lap hungrily at edge fall away – this fingerbreadth of land

by Richard Clarke High in the Blue Mountains, halfway to heaven, full of quiet streets and weathered houses, Blackheath was the favourite holiday haunt of Sydney Anglican ministers like my father. No phone, no TV, no pesky parishioners, but familiar…

by Pat Saunders take me to the city where I lose myself clicking cameras suits sashay betwixt checkerboard red, black splashes battling brollies squirrels Hyde in plain sight your Eye always watching let me ride your underground multicoloured maze rainbow…

by Peter Groves We may have scaled them, said that they are conquered, measured and accounted for but it is beneath them we live. Beneath them lies our history. Beneath them we have tried to order nature to pursue our…

by Alex Robertson Gentle slopes in ferrous tints Grid-shaped streets inclined Broughton River close to Kaurna edges Clan found before & after lands cleared Needs for wheat and sheep Production for the region and beyond Blacksmithing business set up Fencing…

by Mike Greenacre for Jean and Dorothy Though ten years separates them, their working-class upbringing from the late 20s to 30s connected these two teenagers from opposite sides of the globe. Jean was a Tom Boy in London’s East End,…

by Kris Hemensley like the Villon as once felt to be – am sat on Degani bench picking mini pane di casa in least sunshine that qualifies for summertime – I in his bliss – satchel notebook cane – yes…

by Dijanne Cevaal Silent it is not, when I walk. A soft swoosh on the air the elegant swoop of a white throated heron, too shy for encounter. Further along, the busy twittering of fairy wrens flitting through the undergrowth,…

by Colleen Keating Bursts of yellow, red grevilleas, white hakea, others I cannot name weaving in and out of pink clover grasses, dandelion, daisies. They’ve blown in through time and toil to edge cliff ledges it has pounded for millennia.…

by Ross Jackson When a heel of processed bread hits the deck a hockey match of pecks ensues between diners ‘chair legs. Three flustered pigeons give way to an ibis. Clacking beaks of four different species compete for crumbs in…