Time Passing -- A Miscellany of Poems; ŠThor May 1988, 2005 index
Berowra Waters 1971
See you, bye, a mist amid us
Low through the fjiord
And the birds are quiet; only water
Slaps a little at the dinghy.
Penny slips the painter,
Rocks us from the pontoon, and I look up.
Zig-zag stone steps, dew damp
The cottage is already out of reach,
A sketch of white lines, a patch
On the stubble of the old mountain face
Like a painting by Tai Chin
Where distances play tricks with shade.
But a thrill of poised light
Waits over the treetops,
The morning newly charged
Past world's end and flown abroad,
Thronged for a coming of tunes,
For I am faring too at last.
When's lift off ? Nine o'clock.
This will be gone forever,
Her face at the door, stripped
With loss, or early waking.
I don't know; only that by the lintel
A begonia is flowering.
[ Afernote : That morning, long ago yet yesterday, I ceased to be merely a citizen and became a traveler across worlds. Firstly it was by plane and truck, on foot, on buses, on a train here and there, the decks of boats, even a landing barge. But most of all it was in spirit. The first step took me from Sydney through S.E. Asia, then overland through India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, and eventually to England. The journey continues .. ]
Time Passing -- A Miscellany of Poems; ©Thor May 1988, 2005 index