A man with a young son waves in a friendly way and joins us where puppy has flopped in grassy shade. We chat briefly. He is a property manager, organising tradies for an empty rental property just over the road. When a tradie arrives, he gestures to his little boy “Would you mind... just while … Continue reading Trust – the how of it.
the wine in the fridge door was labelled "Half Moon" but i was only getting milk i pondered the label as I poured the tea and concluded that the word "moon" sounds poetic. Full stop. It doesn't matter what comes before: blood moon, sliver moon, tank moon, sallow moon... we are conditioned to love this … Continue reading Half Moon
More rain, long grey worms of it coiling into the grass - this lush green blush, this hurried jungle springing upward. We walk in the spaces between; we are the air gaps, the lungs between in and out. We are paused, our minds at easy, our strides on upswing. Just now, it's us and the … Continue reading The In-Betweeners
To be frank, I am grumpy. I caught a cold from our son. The worst of it is past but what remains is a lot of gunk in my throat and nose such that I constantly have a revolting taste in my mouth. I simply don't have the mental capacity to build a poem tonight. … Continue reading Light on the Hill
Dear Local Lib Member, Yesterday I received a phone call from your office. Of course, when you receive a phone call, you don't have your arguments prepared or a list of stuff to hand. However, the discussion with your staff member inspired me to write this email. The State Liberal Party doesn't get huge amounts … Continue reading In Short…
At 5:30am when the puppy scratches at the hall door and wakes me up, I feel frustrated and a little ripped off. But later in the day, when the gluggy memory of sleep and pillow and warm blankets has shed itself from my skin, I find reasons to be glad. You don't get photos like … Continue reading Early Mornings
you know... that tiny town with the giant concrete elephant in the bakery garden. it's in the mountain country between the moonscape and the escarpment. hell yeah. it's built for poets with a retired general store and that old pub with the arched stable entrance where you can almost hear the jingle of century-old traces. … Continue reading Nimmitabel
I walk with pockets of keys, dog treats, selected cards, a mobile phone leash in one hand, the other free to pick up the 5kg dog if needed. Ahead, she walks: a large handbag on one shoulder, a scooter on that arm and her 12kg toddler on the other hip. Even with all this she … Continue reading Friday School Pick-up
One of those days where I rush from one thing to the next at the beck and call of that stubborn second hand. But the rush is okay compared to other seconds when my life vehicle might swerve madly out of its tyre tracks and leave me... head against the window bruised and whiplashed and … Continue reading Time
