watching unfamiliar stars trace
so far from home
they chew through silverbeet
nibble the petals of the calendula &
sip the sparse early morning dew
hypervigilant. hyperactive. biomechanical eating machines –
a-whir and click-flicking through the garden &
into my sleep
23 years ago, we are at the edge of the Kuranda Rainforest track. Outside, there is only glare and heat and damp. The morning sun bites hard and hot. The bitumen is sticky with heat. The air is so wet that I breathe heavy from the short walk from home. And the blazing song of a million million cicadas buzz, throb, and pulse around us.
Kirra and me, we carefully ease past a cascading curtain of wait-a-while, and we enter the forest.
We enter the cool and dark and quiet.
We enter the stillness of the forest.
I pause to breathe a few breaths and to be present, here.
Kirra wriggles off my hip and runs ahead.
In the heart of this forest there’s a spot where the Kuranda creek murmurs around a large flat rock, 15 steps across: 25 steps for Kirra. There are flay dry patches of rock and little pools, rivulets, and a deep crevasse where an eel may – or may not – live.
Kirra is playing in the creek, perched on the rock, writing on the water with her stick and counting taddies.
I lie on the cool cool stone to look up at the forest giants.
The giant trees, columns and canopy shade us completely: just a few slender rays of sunlight are made visible where they illuminate a leaf, a twig, or tiny floating particles of dust.
And rising between the columns, a cloud of Richmond birdwing butterflies, green stained glass, catch and reflect that sunlight as they circle and eddy slowly in a gentle updraft.
Coiled tight around her beating heart
she ventures forward.
With the weight of all heavy on her back
she scribes the world in silver.
a bird in flight that leaves no trace –
the touch of knowing does not grab,
but leaves things as they are
traceless bird –
to know you,
& leave you as you are
“Like a bird in flight that leaves no trace, the touch of knowing does not grab but leaves things as they are.” (p 14.).
Puhakka, Kaisa. (2000). An invitation to authentic knowing. In Tobin Hart, Peter L Nelson & Kaisa Puhakka (Eds.), Transpersonal knowing: Exploring the horizon of consciousness. (pp. 11-31). New York: NY. State University of New York Press.
the ocean – here
a response to Haiku Horizon’s prompt – Ocean
and with total respect to and in awe of Toni Child’s Where’s the Ocean?
… for being able to appreciate the wonder and mystery of the universe in the face of a dandelion.
heart of our
solar system, a
yellow dwarf star, a
hot ball of
everything from the
biggest planets to the
smallest particles of debris in
center of the
milky way galaxy,
the sun and
radiation belts and
life on earth possible,
basis of many
the sun and the
rest of the
formed from a
giant, rotating cloud of
solar nebula about
our sun accounts for
99.8% of the
mass of the
entire solar system
the sun will
run out of
starts to die, it
will swell so
big that it
mercury and venus and
found poem from beautiful original material retrieved from the NASA website in 2017. NASA. Sun: In depth. https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/planets/sun/indepth
through closed lids:
molten gold –
bouncing off Melinda J. Irvine’s sunlight