A poet they say should see what others fail to appreciate or simply overlook. Sometimes in our busy self consuming lives of getting about to places far away and wonderful we often miss the beauty of where we actually come from ourselves.
Maybe all this travel isn’t doing for us what it’s meant to.
First day
As I clambered from my hot night sleep
With shorts and tee shirt for my walk
Those Kookaburra’s there to greet me with their cries
And Lorikeets charging past me like some pole
In the humid morning all the birds were there to talk
All I had to do was look and open my sunlit eyes
As the smell of Melaleuca soothed my travelled soul.
Those morning clouds, that humid feel
Of tired calming watery waves
Where people walk, some brisk, some slow
As outboards in the distance sing and quiet yachts are anchored still
All such beauty I can only wish to save
That perfect Queensland morning, that can only grow
Here I am again, captured but not against my will.
From those two islands where I’ve been
Whose people like to wear shorts and thongs
Of few birds and very little chirping song
When they say it’s warm yet no humidity is in the air
Where the wind is brisk and the snow white clean
And the cult of the all black worshipped like some enchanted star
Yet those Lorikeets and Kookaburra’s, sing without a care
For here I am, first day, in Australia.
The hovering eagle
