Tag Edition4

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 Kim Waters The sea foam ebbs and flows – Whisked egg whites dolloped Along the scalloped edge of the shore. But no! It’s not water wash. It’s a flock of sanderlings gliding Like surf-skaters over the sand. No! No!…

by Colleen Keating It is a new story this morning trekking the sand dunes of Karagi Point. The air elated by insistent flapping wings and constant chirping. In past summers the air muted diving to protect the young less with…

by Jan Napier While I was out it hatched split and quit its chrysalis on a first leaf dull wet wings folded to a thorax boxy and squat. lumpen stubby moveless till moonlight wrote silver on russet limned antennae fanned…

by Marilyn Humbert Capertee Valley air is still. Insects scatter as we wander sun glazed sandstone escarpments. Hazy eucalypts along the line of sight draw eyes to the summit. Boots scuff roots, scrabble pebbles. Native bees hover above a patch…

by Tanya Dawes I go after my muse my Beatrice armed with a mustard seed a library and skull I peer inside my inkwell. At it’s frozen depths I sketch evil’s icy reflection write my way through the syntax of…

by Jan Napier bucket upturned. ash cloud. flue open. a match to crosshatched kindling, violet white flame lizard tongues twigs. chimney trickles blue. ceramic portals pried aside, another chunk thrust among the half-charred. kettle set to one side wisps. porridge…

by Marilyn Humbert Roused by the taunt of gulls bag and bucket shouldered they amble to the muddy trickle disowned by the high tide. Eager toes delve for pipis in gritty-grey sand below crumbling crags where the wide-eyed horizon overflows.…

by Tanya Dawes We walked in silence Round the empty school yard And back. On my third try She let me take her hand. The streets were wide Angle parking both sides Footpaths lined with elm trees Centenarian trees Once…

by Ron Wilkins Each summer we would go there, Paula, the three small children and I and the thing we most liked to do was walk the several kilometres above the tree-line to Mount Kosciuszko, then return along the track…