The winter walk was sensually intense, the colours and sounds, and the potential of birthing buds ready to burst out in all glory. Below the brambley Wisteria I did find myself on my knees and smiled to myself. It was early morning and I like to think the walk sounds as if it was in some very important place. You have to read to the end of the poem to find out where this special experience unfolded.
winter morning walk
come with me
feel the shrill bell-tingle
of the morning on your face
leave your ears bare to listen
unfurl yourself
like the pocket magnolia bud
peeping from its birthing cocoon
its curiosity insatiable
knowing it is glorious
distinguish whips and chortle and chirps
notice the screech of the yellow crested cockatoo
high above in the blue gums
smile at the showy red camellia
its carpet of colour reflecting its flamboyance
take in that orange blossom scent
kneel before the snow bells
profuse like lilies of the field
below the wisteria’s bare brambles
rub hands
with the pepper tree foliage
let its aroma play in your mind
ah what joy
is this winter morning walk
around the block
