



“Nothing more beautiful under the sun than to be under the sun”
Walt Whitman
On one of those chill winter days
when rugged up in your woolies
you don’t mind it being such –
with stay of azure sky’s low sun
an in-breath of wildness to interrupt
day to day mindset
distant ring of the honeyeater
a creek tinkles gold glint
tones of green all beckon
into a world charged with a Hopkins vibe
sienna beacons of banksia
enlivening the way
sturdy trees usher us onwards
some ramrod sentinels
others lazed-back like friends
free in size and shape
red gum turpentine iron bark
peppermint scribbly gum
thickened roots flow like treacle
into rock crevices
white trunks with stories to tell
their scribbled language intrigue
suddenly crunch crunch in the undergrowth
alerts us to wallabies
that bump bump bump away
we miss their peering eyes
but so happy they are here
deep in the forest we find a spot
in a clearing for our picnic.
magpies warble their presence
a brush turkey befriends us
two kookaburras entertain our stay
one like a zen buddhist on the bough above
the out-breath of wilderness comes
reluctantly
like the end of a symphony
that holds you in its other world
Some surprises y in the undergrowth
who writes the scribbly dialect
written into trunks of eucalypts ?
I watch the trunk of a gum-tree
no sign of a scribe
who writes the scribbly dialect
written into trunks of eucalypts?
i run my finger along the rambling lines
and enjoy the mystery
May Gibbs found inspiration
for her writing on the gum leaves
Judith Wright peeled its splitting bark
and wrote her poem
of this life she could not read.
how lovely to enjoy wonder
believing in fairies
at the bottom of the garden
who is this secret poet ?
who is this hidden creator?
this graffiti artist?
leaving its tag on trees
and what is it trying to say?
a brown moth rarely seen
is the curio its tiny eggs hatch
mysterious larvaes burrow down
like children in class taking up their pen
they tunnel along writing their journey
and as the circle of life comes round
form moths and like students fly free
May Gibbs 1876-1969 May Gibbs MBE was an Australian children’s author, illustrator, and cartoonist. She is best known for her gumnut babies, and the book Snugglepot and Cuddlepie and her scary old Banksia man.
Judith Wright 1915-2000 Judith Wright was an Australian poet, environmentalist and campaigner for Aboriginal land rights. She was a recipient of the Christopher Brennan Award in 1975. Judith was also a recipient of the Australian National Living Treasure Award in 1998.
Scribbly Gum Moth tells the story of the insect’s life cycle.
Scribbly gums are spectacular Australian eucalypts that get their name from the strange ‘scribbles’ left behind on their smooth bark. These rambling tracks are tunnels made by the larvae of the Scribbly Gum Moth and tell a story of the insect’s life cycle.
Photos of the Scribbly Gums were taken by me in the Ku-ring-ga Botanic Gardens in Sydney.
Ku-ring-gai is an Aboriginal word describing the home or hunting ground of the local people.
“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ….
get up in the morning
and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted.
Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible;
never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”
by Abraham Joshua Heschel
A selection of recent moments of amazement.
Radical amazemnt
This morning low on the city horozon
I watched the sun twinkle through the trees
their tracery – bare limbs of deciduous and evergreens
highlighting its early journey into a new day.
It is a holiday here for the Queen’s birthday
and on the sharp edge of winter it is hard to leave my bed
as one would normally do to rise with the light
I linger “under the doona” as we call it these day
and ponder Heschel’s words .
How easy it is to take another day for granted
to look casually at the wonder of the light
outside my window
at camellias blooming gloriously in red and pink and white
some with soft salmon frilled to the edge.
How easy to treat the bird song in the high trees
casually rather than hear it as music for my soul
and to forget everything around us
be it common, familiar, ordinary
is phenomenal, incredible and extraordinary.
not waiting for it to be gone or to change to realise this
When the word radical means deep, absolute total
there is no room for measure
when amazement calls for surprise, atonishment even shock
we have our call to live with radical amazement
Our spitiuality.No need for church
it is here right now
One day the sun admitted,
I am just a shadow.
I wish I could show you
The Infinite Incandescence
That has cast my brilliant image!
I wish I could show you,
When you are lonely or in darkness,
The Astonishing Light
Of your own being!
by Hafiz
Great to receive the latest Eucalypt tanka journal, Issue 32 , 2022,
find one of my tankas included – ‘flawed journey’
and to enjoy the leisure and pleasure in
dipping in and out of this enjoyable journal.
Thank you to the editor Julie Anne Thorndyke
for the wonderful presentation of our work.
I feel honoured to be included . . . named side by side with this
International group of Tanka writers
‘flawed journey’
eucalypt leaves
I search for the unblemished
only to realise
that beauty is in
their flawed journey
the vicissitudes of a blue butterfly
she lavishly opens her wings
teal-blue fans quiver
playing warm still airmotley light from the trees
she darts and dives
ah with what precision
dodges the many hazards
with angular flight
creole-eyed she alights to sip
from sweet honey-dewed
red-dressed grevilleas
moves with notes of music<
up and down around and in me
with lightness and freedom
I know dull blue of wings
etherised
silver-pinned under glass
and think of shy miss butterfly
sprawled in Eliot’s poem
pinned and wriggling on the wall
today her iridescent triangles of blue
flash with the sun like flying jewels
intoxicated with life
Colleen Keating
catastrophic
despotic
covid
uncertain times
where is the still point
in this world wildly whirling?
possessed
the search for a still point
in this wildly unpredictable world
beckons us out along a bush track
listening for guidance
a calming
everything a scene
to be staged
the quiet ones
whispering wisdom
a calming hush
the creek red gums sandstone
moss-coated rocks
ferns unfolding tight-knit fists
the reassuring calls of the whip-birds
a calming hush settles
a lightness breathes
a forest breathing lightness
resurrection spangle of greens
new life blooms in every crevice
and a calming hush settles us