Wednesday, August 24, 2005

For Angela

I spent some time living on my 32’ ketch in Brisbane from 1988 to 1995, and sometime in that period met a Lufthansa Air Hostess.


Sitting; gently rocking on the evening swell,
surrounded by the bell
of golden evening air,
musing that if there were a stair
to heaven, it must be near.
The chitter and chirp of birds I hear
conversing in the nearby trees;
an eagle soars high up and sees
a loop of golden beach, recurving
away behind me, placid - and serving
to remind the senses of a bygone peaceful age
when mankind was at one with the world.

Then two fishermen roar past in a tinnie,
each denizen of the sea dives deep.
A flat top ferry
engines roaring, making merry,
thrusting through the water,
spray spurting, rooster tails erect, sorter
bull-nosing the commuters home to see
what magic the microwave has prepared for tea.

On my left hand side two pelicans sail
the shallows close inshore;
and the pale, white-silk clouds slowly drift
in a deep blue see-through sky, and lift
my thoughts way way high up in the air.
A passing jet roars on to who knows where;
High up, high up in the sky,
and then I wonder why -

out of a translucent, pallid blue -
my thoughts return to you.

DJH 1990

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