This summer’s day
Barbara Gonda
As a gentle prelude to the day,
a soft breeze touches my face
calming, stilling.
The sun rises,
galahs already play on the wires
and pelicans cruise the sky.
It happens slowly.
The texture of air thickens.
The tone of the light pales
as moisture is slowly drawn away.
The scent of grass and dust is heady, heavy
and animals hide themselves in quiet places.
The heat becomes overbearing, intensifying
sinking into my skin
draining resilience from mind, body;
swallows pant
cats stretch on tiled floors
and relentless whirling fans struggle to contend.
At its worst,
coolness is pulled from shadows
drawing even the darkest into the heat.
It bakes.
Tender plants limp testaments
to this heartless ferocity.
This summer’s day
parching, bleaching
sucking life, unforgiving.
Yet, strangely, unexpectedly
my thoughts rearrange themselves
as I become increasingly aware of this day.
In the midst of my coping and protesting
I find myself also honouring
the fierce intensity of this land,
a place made of heat, dirt, dust and unforgiving realities.
I feel its essence in the brick-hard landscape
as I draw deep breath to be part of its strength.
I tuck my toes deep into the hot red sand to feel its soul.
I contemplate the power of this place.
I am indiscernible. I belong
in the endlessness
of this inevitable, powerful country.
Weather
by Earl O’Neill
No trees down
No roofs off
No worries
Conflict Resolution
Scott 37
squinting into sun
brooding over the thickness of pegs
hoping to straighten conflict
taken from a mixed basket
relationships entwined
……………………… as pant legs
……………………………………. and bra straps
wishing to smooth this dispute
with warm sunlight on love
………………. hems flicking
…………………………………………….. frivolously on the breeze
dripping resentment slowly drying
until your voice chiding
triggers my response
“I said I’d get to it
when I finish at the line!”