Last days of February : One Day at a Time 2 by Colleen Keating

 

” One cannot but be in awe when one contemplates the mysteries
of eternity, of life, of the marvellous structure of reality.
It is enough if one tries to merely comprehend a little of this
mystery each day.
Never lose a holy curiosity.
– Albert Einstein

 

afternoon rain
dewdrops dazzle like
dangling fairy lights

rainbows
dew drops corralled
by sun beams

 

Tanka

morning Mozart plays
from a sleepy place I wake
with new energy
to face any curve ball
that is thrown my way

 

killing fields

the only sound aside from first wind rising
was the occasional brush of my footsteps
against soft cushion of earth
i looked out across the lake
the early dawn light
lay like a silver mirror
broken now and then
as several black cormorants
broke the surface and redived

in the far distance
the black swans grazed in sea grasses
and lone pelicans glided by
I watched the silver light of jumping fish
catch insects
then the pelican saw its opportunity
struck with violent grasp

grabbed the fish
its pouch beak
stretched and wriggling
while it shook its neck
and gulped the fish

I turned my attention to the paperbarks
and the symmetry
of the native miner’s wings
as it flies into a paperbark

and stand in shock
as it flew out
with the agonised death screech
of a cicada in its beak

is this place
that appears so tranquil
actually a killing field?

 

 

Merriment of  Frogs after the Rain

As the sun comes up
i walked towards the stand of swamp paperbarks
a sound like a freight train racing
through a country town
filled the air

closer it became more individual
like hearing each individual carriage clanking past
and then individual  rumbling croaks

yes the swamp was alive with frogs
all carousing and courting and
chatting
here was a living field
vibrant and alive

 

 

A Tree Kinship 

over the curve of my thoughts
comes a sound
amidst a stand of Paperbarks
they were not only breathing together
they were conversing

my heart wells up to bursting

every tree has such character
twisted and curved
not a straight line anywhere

all seem to be aware of each other
a tree kinship
each with unique characters

that breathe life  and meaning
and sanctity

the textured bark glistens with the
wash of the recent rain
in all the tones
of cream – coffee caramel tawny and wheat
desert  ochre copper  topaz and brown

 

 

 

A plaque on a seat at a lookout

How very lucky are we
to breathe salty air
and sit here by the sea