Just before first light we rose
the lunar moon
was due
we watched we waited
the hearth of a new day
burst firing the waves
the lunar moon
travelled into its tiger destiny
invisible
not even a whisper
or scintella of light
but one with the air
lunar moon
we search the darkness
on the horizon
light dawn sunrise
for a wild water tiger
i was surprised
by its gentle silent entry
like a dew drop on a rose
or the tear drop of blood
from the pierce of a thorn
60 years for its return
1962 the year I left
the cocoon of school
for the world
2022 is it the year I bow out
and return
to the cocoon of my world
in nature
lunar new year
the morning glory
are full of welcome
association
paperbark and purple
morning glory
Bird walk today
Can you see the two cormorants hanging out by the lake in the photo?
just hanging out
they know we are here
two pied cormorants
and
two cormorants
hanging out by the lake
social distancing
How many kookaburras
makes a coven
waiting for their prey
The 10th and final issue of the much-loved journal, Windfall: Australian Haiku, was released in January 2022.
Windfall is an annual journal edited by Beverley George and published by Peter Macrow at Blue Giraffe Press. The cover artwork is by Ron C. Moss, with design and layout by Matthew C. George.
Originating in Japan, the popularity of this short poetic genre has spread widely around the globe. Australian interest in haiku dates as far back as 1899 when an Australian haiku competition was conducted(1). Subsequently, in the 1970s, Janice Bostok produced Australia’s first haiku magazine, Tweed(2).
More recently, the Australian journal, paper wasp, ran for 20 years until ceasing publication in 2016 and, with the internet leading to growing interest in the genre, other print and online journals have encouraged and supported the writing of haiku.
For the past ten years, Windfall has focused solely on haiku about Australian urban and rural life, written by Australian residents. These poems have incorporated many elements of our landscapes, seasons, flora and fauna into the haiku form.
spring equinox over the moonlit creek a pobblebonk chorus
Mark Miller
leading into sundown dingo tracks
Tom Staudt
virgin rainforest ninety-four rings on a fresh cut stump
Andrew Hede
Nature haiku such as these enable Australians and others to appreciate images and sounds associated with the birds, animals and plants of this country.
waning moon in the mangroves fireflies stir
Maureen Sexton
rising heat a jabiru crosses the sun
Cynthia Rowe
winter afternoon — golden wattle glows on black sky canvas
Sheryl Hemphill
Windfall has chronicled some of the best Australian haiku for a decade. Issue 10 presents haiku by 63 poets. By my count, 20 of these poets also appeared in Issue 1, which suggests around 40 of the current Windfall poets have emerged in the intervening period. The growing Australian haiku community certainly includes a healthy influx of fresh voices and fresh ideas.
Some poems in Windfall relate to the interaction between nature and the human environment.
opera house steps a long-nosed fur seal soaks up the sunshine
Vanessa Proctor
rainforest glade an empty packet of Smith’s catches the sun
Nathan Sidney
While others use local flora and fauna to portray aspects of Australian behaviour and culture.
black cockatoos in tree shadows he stops treatment
Earl Livings
beachside walk the roughness of banksia pods
Nathalie Buckland
dunny without a door . . . the Milky Way
Leanne Mumford
Credit for Windfall’s success must go to editor, Beverley George, and to publisher, Peter Macrow. Beverley’s deep knowledge of the haiku form has enabled her to assemble a marvellous selection of Australian haiku for each edition of Windfall, while Peter has supported the journal throughout its life.
Beverley George selected the following haiku to conclude the 10th issue of Windfall. It was a wonderful choice, with the poem capturing a quintessentially Australian scene. But, more than that, the poem does not despair about ending. Rather, the poem celebrates the vitality of birth and renewal.
sheltered paddock the udder punch of a newborn
Glenys Ferguson
For ten years, Windfall has made an important contribution in recording the work of Australian haiku poets. Now, we all look to the future.
Review by Gregory Piko
A limited number of back issues of Windfall (No. 4 to No. 9) and of the final issue (No. 10) are available for $10 per copy, postage included. Cash or stamps are welcome, as are cheques payable to Peter Macrow. Please address to:
Peter Macrow 6/16 Osborne Street Sandy Bay TAS 7005
sometimes it takes sadness loss an empty room
to painfully be aware of presence
sometimes it takes stillness of breath
to remind us to breathe deeply
consciously with gratitude
sometimes it takes silence
to remind us to sing
and find
presence
breath
song
we did today
our first bush walk since our world changed
and we take time to adjust
to a new life without Pat in our world
an amazing eucalypt stopped us in our tracks
a grand old lady holding forth
fully present
from each angle she commandeered our attention
the light played beautifully along her trunk
adding to her starling presence
colours and tones of nature
naturalness
messiness
especially the scruffy banksia men
trunks, bark, brambles decay
ant-eating bores seed pods
humus of leaf litter
were catching my eye
with a chaotic beauty that satisfied me
still feeling close to the out of control
and sense of rawness that is reality
when we experience the threshold of transition
for it takes time to find
ways to close off and re-protect ourselves
yet the music of birds
the baby wren that flew out
on a branch to greet us
the kookaburras,
the goanna that stayed for a photo
the blue and stunning black butterfly that didn’t stay
a few straggler flannel flowers
reminding us of our lockdown spring walks
where we marvelled at their abundance
and their star-light quality
At the top of Crackneck Mountain
we stopped to have a cuppa and muesli bar
marvelled at the grandeur of the ocean spread out
in all its glory
never ceasing to amaze and delight
we walked down the mountain
taking the outer less worn track
where we were reminded of new life
as fresh lime-green candles of banksia
brightly shone
and young callow sprigs of Xanthorrhoea *
their flounce like ballerinas in their grass shirts
the first breath of wind will have them dancing.
*’Xanthorrhoea’is the name for what we mostly call the grass tree. It means ‘yellow flow’ in ancient Greek and refers to its resin. This resin was much prized by Aboriginal people, being used as a glue or as a coating/waterproofing material. The early settlers also found it extremely useful, as a glue, a varnish, polish and a coating of tin materials. It was used in the sizing of paper, in soap and perfumery and even in the manufacture of early gramophone records.
i visit my special tree
a regular confidante
and ponder
what this new year may bring
rooted in place
sturdy stronger calmer
than i remember
it gazes upwards
out over the valley
as if it could see
far beyond our horizon
one thing changed
last visit its bark was pink
sleek inviting my hand
to run across its dimply skin
today its bark is splitting
letting go
peeling in strips and curls
burnished as an old rusty drum
exposing chartreuse rawness
i nod and thank
tree wisdom
for its perfect message
The magic colours of the trunk .
Totem
The Angophora Tree
Totems are a natural object or creature that is believed to have spiritual significance and can be adopted by particular groups as an emblem or symbol. This special tree like others before me who declared it the hugging tree is my special tree
The angophora tree is a special tree to the Darug people who are the Traditional Custodians of the area. The angophora is an ascension tree, a place where the spirits go up and down from this earthly plane.
In pre-colonial days at the time of pregnancy, a woman would sit at the base of the tree and wait for the spirit of her child to enter her belly into her unborn child. At the other end of the life cycle, when someone passes, the body is wrapped in bark and placed in the large branches up the tree, to allow the spirit of the person to return to the heavens.
On a recent visit I felt the spirit is still there. There is a parallel world here in this Loreto forest .
I am writing my next poem on that at present.
(Angophora Costata Sydney Red Gum or Smooth Bark Apple Gum)
The Society of Women Writers enjoyed a festive dayl face to face
(for the first time for months as the meetings have been held by zoom)
A fun workshop on humour in our writing.
Two great speakers including poet and close friend Pip Griffin giving the authors talk as she told us of the three latest publications which I have spoken of before in more detail.
and then 5 poets
including me enterained the group.
Below is the well known poet and Haikuist, Beverley George and I dressed ready ready for our performance
which was a poem about a catch up of two friends reminiscing about by gone days. It was written by Beverley a few years back and won a FAW award. We generated plenty of laughter what we needed today.
Below is a collage of our Christmas celebration. from the Society’s website.
Two of my poems read as part of the performance.
taking wings
if ever there were a summer day so perfect
so romantic under its mild autumn sun
constantly making love to the trees and flowers
that it made you wish to tear at your shackles
rip off your yoke
feel exposed to its sharp pinion
and to give yourself over to brash colour
without an iota of worry
a day that made you pack a sandwich
and with a bottle of water to set out
to walk quiet ways catching the song
of tiny birds brimming in wild blackberry brambles
and for a moment feel your heart sing
with even a quaver of gratitude
well today is just that kind of day
from Fire on Waterby Colleen Keating pg.107
Scriptorium
Maybe it is the light
that illuminates jars
of coloured minerals, powders.
Maybe the smell of curing skin,
or sharp tang of vinegar.
It could be the plaited basket
of moss and flower, blue woad dye
or sharp smell of ink
pestled down from bald-oak.
Maybe the sight of scrolls
rolled into alcoves
or shelved parchments,
or the elaborate books of saints
behind the monk Volmar,
enshrined on the cumdach.
Perhaps it’s the copy of Ptolemy’s Astronomy,
or the manuscripts
Volmar points out,
from all over the Christian and Arab world.
Maybe just crossing the threshold
when Hildegard steps through the door,
inhales the air
and feels immediately at home
in a world that sharpens curiosity.
Hildegard knows,
she has found her calling.
She wants to be a maker of books.
from Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey
Just for fun this is a photo of Beverley and me . It was taken at our performance of the same poem at the retreat a few years back.
“Glance at the sun. See the moon and the stars. Gaze at the beauty of earth’s greenings. Now, think. What delight God gives to humankind with all these things . All nature is at the disposal of humankind. We are to work with it.For without we cannot survive.” – Hildegard of Bingen
I love this quotation by Eleanor Roosevelt:
“I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift would be curiosity.”
Curiosity is the precursor to scientific breakthroughs, to all great literature and art. Albert Einstein said,
“I have no special talent, I am only passionately curious.”
He also said, “Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
That’s exactly what Hildegard possessed–a holy curiosity. She must have jumped out of bed every morning, eager to discover something new. She walked the earth with the fervent belief that God placed everything here for our discovery and enjoyment. In her science book Causae et Curae, Hildegard writes about topics as varied as medicine, human sexuality, astronomy, and theology. Her science wasn’t always spot on. “There are also the five planets….And as a human’s five senses hold the body together, so too these five planets hold the sun together and are its ornament” (Causae et Curae page 29, as translated by Margaret Berger).
But the breadth and depth of her investigations into the world around her were truly staggering for a 12th century nun.
I’m sure if she were here today, Hildegard would tell you that curiosity, just like her 35 virtues, could be cultivated and enhanced with a little effort on our part.
Sarah’s suggestions in her daily Living Hildegard blog are
Explore an old path and look at it with fresh eyes. Read a magazine you wouldn’t normally pick up. Learn something new. Make a new friend. Travel to a different place. Take a class. Pick up a new language or a musical instrument–proven ways to keep your brain sharp into old age.
Hildegard may be the first and best example of a commitment to lifelong learning coupled with the courage to branch out into the unknown.
It’s good for your heart, health and brain to step outside your comfort zone and explore something new.
Thank you to the brilliant blogs Healthy Hildegard and the daily blog Living Hildegard with Sarah Rhiem
Explore an old path and look at it with fresh eyes.
Curiosity on our local walk today
The play of light on the Red Gum with the peeling of bark stoped me in my tracks.
Michael enjoying the calm greeness of the stand of Red woods
The ferns in the forest today were very active. I love the way this koru has unfolded and now all the secondary korus are unfolding. I have caught it in a moment of time.
Curiosity: Here we were amazed at the uncurling stage of the new fronds. I don’t think this photo does it justice but up close for Michael and I we were full of wonder at the unfurling of creation.
Wet and dry reflections.Beneath my feet. The ferns reflected. It takes a moment for your eyes to see the play of light and silhouette.
What an amazing fungus. And the blood red colours of the trunk and play of light caught our attention for ages.
So lovely to be in our Cathedral of light and peace with the music of the tinkling creek backgrounded by bird song.
Reflections along the creek. We enjoyed the tinkling and bubbling sound of running water too.
Our monarch butterfly danced for us a graceful beauitful performance.
Back home we were still full of wonder and gratitude for a refreshing and healing walk. Our curiosity sated for today.
“Walk as if we are kissing the earth with our feet” exhorts Thich Nhat Hanh
A summer storm blew up just when I was about to take a walk and I waited an hour. Little did I know in some parts of Sydney trees were downed and much damage had been done .
However It added to an interesting walk as the bush had experienced a wild storm. There was still a wail of wind in the upper echelons of trees.The forest world had been disturbed
Leaves were blown wild and ripped twigs and brambles scattered the ground. Bark from the many eucalypts stripped fallen like a garment discarded forcefully.
The light played through thunderers grey cloud with a sudden dazzle of breakthrough, lighting up small pockets of bush and then crowding over. It was an eerie feeling.
Yet the movement of walking slowly, brought back the rhythm of my mind in step with nature.Washed clean by the storm there was a new green and the sparks of rare sunlight threw another dimension onto the scene.
The forest floor was alive –the small world under my feet, writhing beyond sight, but the aroma was strong with roots, mycelia, decomposers, bacteria, protozoa, worms, grubs, beetles beyond counting, beyond knowing . . . the living and the dead brushing together to create their own symphony of sound and activity.
The small steps in evolution going on right before my eyes,
its own miracle.And the constant reminder we are not needed here.
Coloured algae rooting into the sandstone, fungi at work, soft moss and lichen covering the rocks in this rainy weather . maybe they will receed into grooves, nooks and crannies in the dry. Small ferns, bracken ferns breaking up the rock for soil for the tree ferns,palms, trees, and towering eucalypt– the evolving world of plants. All here for the , curious to observe the whole evolutionary plan before us.
it seems to me modern life is happening faster than the speed of thought, thoughtfulness. there is no time to ponder an event before the next one comes tumbling in and like an ocean wavedrops it new story. So it is good to walk in kairos time rather than the every day khronological time.. . .well just for awhile.
As i came across a quiet corner the light briefly broke thru the clouds . i felt dizzy.
I found myself in two worlds. I was present here in the echoes of coolness but sensed a whole world around me
I had a foot in two worlds . . . there was chatter, laughing, mourning birthing.I realised this was an ancient popular indigenous place. I am prone to being in two worlds . Once arriving at Schofields to celebrate a new school opening, as I got out of the car and put my foot down onto the ground I was part of a massacre the thudding of the ground, the cries, the moans .The memory has never gone away. It made me quite sick as no massacre had been acknowledged there, at the time. I believe acknowledgement is better now.
Happier crossovers have been at Terramungamine Common where we camped many times outside Dubbo on theMacquarie river bank. Sitting there around a fire once I was aware of stamping, dusty feet and knew on another level we were not the first here and not alone. These were ponderous activities to be mingled with. And another in the bush at Marg’s old place . I found I was in a bora ring . It was happy too and was a good reminder of our ancestors before us. And of course at Myall Creek I smelt the burnt flesh once but at least I knew this was a documented event.
Not sure how I rambled onto this experience . Thesense of two worlds was gone as quickly as it came and the heavy clouds dulled the forest world into an ominous and enchanting place to be.
A tiny bunny rabbit peeked up at me and then ran as fast was his little legs would goand I called after it .. . You stay well hidden or we will have signs up saying baits are set here . like in other places.
I disturbed a brush turkey courtship ,. . .the female waiting below and the male preparing the nest for the next stage. I sneaked past and apologised for the disturbance.
I knew I was well off the normal track as I was wandering to see if there was an easier way to get Michael to the hugging tree . (didn’t find it)
The forest holds such wonder and by going slowly to savour it I find much to be grateful for.
The intricate patterns of trees, the colours on rocks the pools and the circles I made by dropping in a pebble.
Having this time to stop and absorb my surroundings is a luxury I am grateful for.
It is my air pocket, my lifelineneeded in the busy city of life with the crowed world of demands.
A
