“I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.” ~ Vincent van Gogh

Monday, January 31, 2011

Where to from here?

I liked this game! I'm not willing to just drop it now. So I shall continue to pick up and polish small stones I find as I go about my life, and post them here. Only I don't expect to keep doing it every day. For one thing, I've committed to NaHaiWriMo, writing a haiku a day during February, and they'll appear at one of my other blogs, Haiku Page of the Passionate Crone. 

I'll also share them via twitter, and in the facebook group, Haiku on Friday.

I plan to post a small stone here once a week — or perhaps oftener, if the withdrawals get too bad. ;)


Between one day and the next
the bush in my driveway
bursts into flower,
clusters of tiny white trumpets.

Sunday, January 30, 2011


Purring, she comes to snuggle
in the hollow between us
to be stroked, a nightly ritual.

He reaches out his hand to her,
finds mine there already, draws his back.
All the while he remains asleep.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Fresh Morning

Fresh morning
before the heat begins.
A large brown butterfly
wings from a tree,
and flies close by my head

Friday, January 28, 2011

Social Networking

Back online
after three weeks

getting my fix
of friends and poetry

‘Gimme!’ I say,
and ‘Slurp!’


Thursday, January 27, 2011


The mountains are very clear today,
sharp-edged and solid.

I almost think I can see
individual leaves on particular trees.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Another handful of stones

We are still not online. A faulty modem is being replaced but freight has to go through Brisbane, which recently suffered horrendous floods, so naturally enough everything has been held up.  Meanwhile am using a friend's access, and here are the latest small stones:


The sea is blue today, 
sunny azure,
when I come to the top of the hill
and look down at the long line of it
undulating slightly
following the curves of the sand,
that thin strip of tawny gold
edging the dark green, tree-crowded shore.


Power Display

The St Andrews spider
stretched across her web
shows me her striped belly,
green and black and gold.

From the ends of her front legs
start two white zig-zags,
lightning streaks, that merge into
the fine, straight roads of her web.



I swam today
in Debbie’s pool
and not alone:
accompanied by a brown frog
the length of my middle finger.

He swam like I do,
lazily —
sometimes flexing his legs
in leisurely kicks,
mostly just floating.



Yesterday, my friend
spoke of encountering angels.

Such vivid detail,
it seemed I was there with her
seeing and understanding
what she saw and understood.

Still, a day later,
I’m fizzy with joy.


The Marmalade Kitten

The marmalade kitten is so young
that her eyes are still pale blue.
Red-haired seven-year-old Hayley
cradles and displays her.
‘She matches your hair,’ I say.
‘And my eyes,’ says Hayley.


We Walk

We walk slowly
along to the top of the hill.
He wants to take shots of the mountains.

The bright sun
fades them into the white sky.
All the same, after our jaunt he is singing.



She goes outside
to take the cool night air.
When I look for her later
on the empty landing
I think she must have gone
to roam the dark.
But when I call, she comes
up the steps at once
with a small miaow of greeting.


Sexual Preference

For the first time I wonder,
what have my loves in common?
(Apart from the pretty faces
I so often fall for ... even they
had to have more than that ...
the so many different kinds
of pretty faces....) At the age
 of seventy-one, finally
I figure it out. Ah yes —
I like adventurous men!



The little dog with the curly tail
almost forgets to bark,
half asleep in the heat —
rushes up belatedly with a growl.

‘Hey,’ I say, ‘It’s only me’
and the tail wags.
But as I go past,
another low growl sees me off.
He knows his duty.

The fence between us
keeps everything safe,
including both our faces.



I go down the front steps
to fetch the morning paper,
come back up, and each way
the one small pink flower
from my potted geranium bush
pokes through the rails like a smile.


Monday, January 17, 2011

Catching Up

Well, we have been disconnected from the internet since 4th January (and still are, in fact, but I am using the Neighbourhood Centre access).

I've been finding and polishing my small stones every day, so here now are a whole lot at once!

The child at the concert ...

The child at the concert
lifts up her arms and plays
a violin made of air.
Her expression is very serious.



Because I have a reason now
to want to recall my dreams
I begin to recall them
more each day.

First fragments
then whole scenarios
remain with me at morning
gifts from the depths of my mind.


At nearly 82 ...

At nearly 82
he is reading a book on fairies,
on real encounters with fairies.

He looks up,
smiling with dancing eyes.
Later he sleeps like a baby.



The singer sings of love
to the man on stage beside her.

‘He can hack it,’ she says,
as he feigns embarrassment,
‘He’s a Leo.’ And they laugh.

For a moment my eyes fill with tears
in memory of another Leo man.


Wet Weather

On this grey day
the sky outside
shrinks in close,
while here inside
the light expands.



Rain keeps falling.
No respite.
A bell in the wind:
my chimes by the front door
strike a cheerful note.



On the ramp at the shopping centre
a stranger meets my eyes and smiles,
lifting her gaze from the pentacle I wear
around my neck, with a quick little nod.



On the high side of the hill,
although my herb garden is a jungle
and the lawn squelches underfoot,
this home is still the sanctuary
that so many others were not.


Wet Season

I notice the recurring mould prefers
(as I do) untreated leather and wood.
So living organisms flourish best
in natural environments. Is this always good?


(Today I was presented with more than one small stone)

Stopped at the pedestrian crossing,
we watch a woman pushing a shopping trolley
with two joyous puppies bouncing inside it
alongside her handbag and parcels.
The mother dog walks beside her on a leash.
What trust these dogs must have in this woman!


‘Oh Lord,’ I mutter, stuck behind slow people
at the entrance to the ramp in the shopping centre.
Some are fat, some sick, some elderly.

Then I decide to be glad that I can still,
despite my 71 years, overweight and arthritic legs,
move up that ramp quickly, straight-backed.


Strutting across the road,
an obese magpie.
Must be good worming,
after all this rain.


What is that rooster doing,
crowing so loud
in my neighbour’s yard
in the overcast middle of the day?


At Home

Warble of a magpie somewhere near,
a sunny streetscape after long rains
and nowhere to go this lazy Saturday,
nothing to do but be here, sweet here.



The red poinsettia
draws all focus
to that one point
of my green garden.


Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Guard Cats

I let the cats outside.
With noses forward,
tails high and slightly waving,
they slowly examine
every corner of the yard.

Monday, January 3, 2011

True Fulfilment

He shares with me an audio download
on how to get in touch with your heart,
how to discover your heart’s desire
and experience true fulfilment.

But I already have my heart’s desire.
I live close to nature in a beautiful place.
I make poems and people read them.
When we’re both lucky, I touch your heart.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Spring Growth

The cactus I thought was dead
has created a tiny new ball of green
erupting from the dry stump.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

New Year's Day

After all that rain,
atop my umbrella plant
new leaves glisten.