Tag Archives: writing

Edgelings

I’m out in the front garden, sitting under a gum tree. Parakeets have a nest up high on the branches. The nest looks frail and yet solid, swaying with the wind. Clouds whisper across the sky, thin trails of conversations … Continue reading

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Songs of the Moon

Drift in, notes, the songs of the moon, sometimes afloat in the memory that is blood, others that still light hugging the window when the curtains are left undrawn, and the shadows of old buildings, stone walls, a river’s murmur, … Continue reading

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Ripples of Light

It’s cold, just now, as the evening starts its piquant quiet roll into the quickening of night. Even the clouds are first crisp, then wispy, rippling into pink, lilac, the greying dark. One reminds me of petroglyphs in the US … Continue reading

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Journeys by foot

I’ve just started reading Robert MacFarlane’s book, The Old Ways : a journey on foot. It’s one of those books that I can read only in stages, not because it’s heavy going, but because I want to savour the thoughts … Continue reading

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Evening walks

The evening so still, light fading, its arc still bright to the side of us, then on some of the orange lichen covered granite rocks and boulders, like a gentle lingering, a final touch and polish before slowly brightening the … Continue reading

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Returning to sea

A cool, misty morning, feathered rain a soft, delicate drizzle as I walk along the beach in Horseshoe Bay. The dog sweeps off to the small dunes checking new scents; waves swish close, then further away, closer still, never the … Continue reading

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Whale Dreaming

Two days ago, whales off Frenchman’s Rock. Seven of them, southern right whales. There may have been more. I had no binoculars, hadn’t expected to see any. Was just out on a walk with the dog. Exercise. It’s getting late … Continue reading

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