white foxes

my friend
there is so much that you have missed

each morning the sun still rises to touch the clouds with gold
that place that sells the good kebabs is making real lemonade again
and Sara’s baby girl giggles in her sleep

they say she couldn’t see that anymore she lived in a world with no colour

but last night, in a world bleached by fog I saw
two white foxes in the headlights
suspended

how I miss you
dear friend

no ugly

one day I accidentally looked at myself in the mirror, naked.

I thought, what would I call myself if there was no such thing as ugly?
— you are fat and old

OK, no fat and no old. Ha ha!
— gross. Your breasts sag so does your tummy and your chin is hairy

well that may be but there is no gross, no hideous, no misshapen and
no unattractive either.

a searching, groping, a casting about

a small space forms, a gap into which other words now tumble…
— strong, resilient, enduring

And a feeling too:
— peace

an ordinary september morning in a bush suburb of brisbane, australia

the light is soft, the sky ablaze in the east, sun rising over my sister’s empty house
the neighbour’s roosters are crowing, highway a-humming, small birds whistle
a pop-pop-pop
tweet a-twitter peep-peep pittering
a chirup a chirup a chirup
the hens squabble up the hill over breakfast
except for chee chee who grizzles at my feet about the too-cold water
in little groups the rest come join her – ranga2, bonnet, julie2, lovely, dovely, bandit-the-pizzle, and ember
now crowd at my feet whinging for scraps
My feet are damp from the dew and coolish
hands are warm from the coffee cup perched on the table in front of the laptop
The early crows get up and call the rest to murder
the last of the chooks’ breakfast
Soon my sister will be home from night shift. I will get up and make her a cuppa if she drops in
and be careful where I tread.

small comforts when I am sick with a cold

tea
really soft tissues
napping
a soft hug
sitting in the morning sun drinking tea
gentle voices
being able to say no thankyou
people popping in for a wee visit
my dressing gown
a steaming hot cup of tea
another nap

a few things I have recently accepted…

my badass middle aged lady beard

the desire to carry tweezers everywhere

no caffeine after midday

waking up in a sweat at 2am after drinking caffeine at 3pm

the dog is incontinent

i still love the dog

the steam mop given to me by my mother-in-law really is the best present ever

Gratitude day 5

Our guineapigs who art in heaven hallowed be thy names. Please say g’day to the goat who ate the lantana, to silver, the fat brown pony who never wanted to cross the road, to old trinity who pigrooted and farted, to my gorgeous chooky-girls, to munted bill who said wanna scratch? and bit the hand that fed, to wendy who looked into my eyes and sighed, to the cats who tried to teach me to hunt by leaving hell-spitting snakes in my bed, to gentle ben, and to faithful willie who cried and cried when ben died. May you all be living in green pastures, may you all ever-experience the love, companionship and fun that you bought to my life. amen

Gratitude day 4

for the little brown dog who has trotted beside me for most of my life through years across the state across the country – valiantly I have pushed her away, stopped being so damn sensitive, drank the concrete, changed my thoughts, words, my mind… but every time I say I’m ok she nips at a heel to trip me up, brushes her damp body against mine causing the hell-rash, or pounces on me in my sleep to wake me terrified, screaming or weeping

for yesterday when I sat on the train with the water from yet another job ‘no’ leaking from my eyes wondering again what was wrong with me that I couldn’t just appreciate what I had and think of the starving children and be goddamn grateful for fs sake

for when I found her damp and smelly right in my lap. She poked her wet nose into my ear and whispered safely and she left me

for when I finally contemplated safety and what and where and who and when and why safety is and how I might as gently and sensitively as I please go about finding myself some more of that safety

for now – I spot my little friend sitting just outside the back door. I sit with her a bit, content, and throw her some scraps. She leaves them for the chooks, and stretches out in the sun, dry and warm basking

Gratitude day 3

one for a night sky crystalled with stars swirling beautiful aaahhh
two for the ever changing ever new and glorious moon a sliver a slice a bowl a beacon a mystery
three for the puffy whites a-sailing to catch the light and be haloed or pierced through for awe and wonder
four for the streaks that stretch t-h-i-s far across the sky ooohh that must be miles and miles that I can see
five for the blazing colours a gasp a silent moment of contemplation, peace, smile, breathe and remember that I am that prince with the whole universe inside him Yes

Gratitude day 2

one for the chooky-ladies who give me clucks and squawks, funniness and eggs
two for the black and white feathered brigade who eat the grubs and bugs in the garden and sing so cheerfully
three for the wee wonders the tiny blue and blacks and brown and reds who cling so daintily on fine little feet and trumpet their good mornings
four for the sweetness of the lacey gold and chocolate quackers
five for the magnificence of the raptors – the wedgie, the falcon, the goshawk – for wonder and awe – and the reminder of just how much we love all the others
and six – a bonus – for the crows who provide such witty conversation

Gratitude day 1

one for David who gets me even when i’m tired and prickly and sour he rolls his eyes and cooks me a roast anyway
two for Kirra, a protector, telling it as she sees it straight
three for Keltie a quiet hug, a sensible word, sweet
four for Bindi a different take, a giggle, a surprise
five for my little collective, all our pains-to-be-withnesses, awkwardnesses, and laughs and the big big love for being there at the end of the long hard day, listening or just pretending to thanks

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