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Hear My Voice – 1

A part of our small, grassy-woodland urban park is being allowed to regenerate. For the humans participating in the project, this mostly involves assiduous weeding and a small amount of replanting, but most of the hard work is being done by the land itself. The birds and other wild creatures (ie. two skinks and some butterflies) are embracing the changes.

I like my spear grasses straight off the plant.
From paddock to plate –
Fast food –
So fresh, so nutritious, so grand.

This is my place. This is my home.
From this watchtower, I behold you on your knees,
creating a space for us to live together and apart.
My retreat from mankind’s constant intrusions.

Peace and quiet, ladies and gentlemen, peace and quiet.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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Macro Monday

A photo and a poem about grass. Somehow it got a bit dark but it’s no metaphor.

En Garde
If I drive my finger onto your thorns,
would I fall asleep,
supine forevermore?
Or would I draw bonded blood in awe?
Nurse my pain in living thrall, paying my
dues to your magnificence.

Possibly the spectacular Lomandra longifolia, but I’m only guessing.

Kind Regards
Tracy.

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You’re Gruesome

Kind of busy, kind of wet here, ladies and gentlemen. A couple of weeks ago I visited one of Canberra’s wetlands, which is pretty much everywhere here these days. I’d been told that there were plenty of brown snakes in that area and to watch my step, a bit hard to do when there are so many other things to look at. Anyway, I went into one of the bird hides and all of sudden there was this almighty racket outside. I raced outside expecting to see a snake snacking on a nest of baby birds.

But I neither saw or heard anything unusual. How strange. So I went back into the bird hide and all hell broke loose. There were swallows squawking and flying up to my face. It was then that I realised that I was the snake.

They gave me the evil eye.


And plotted their next move under cover of darkness.


Great gobs agape.


Until I slithered silently away.

Gruesome. Not a creature stirred on this wet and windy Halloween night.

This is also my contribution to the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Flights of Fantasy.

Take care, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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Lens Artists – Motion

I just happened to have a couple of motion shots that I haven’t published and one that I have. Only three photos, so I thought I would slip in a poem or three. Enjoy.

Strong is mother’s instinct to provide.
Strong is the instinct to survive.
Run along, hungry bird.
Run to mummy.

Showers came in repeated waves
in front of frigid wind.
On the pinnacle, leaves jostled
for attention, but no one saw or heard.

The air shimmers with your power.
The future is green energy.
It won’t hurt you.

Patti, who is back from her holiday, is hosting the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge this week. The theme for the challenge is Motion. Click on the link here to view Patti’s wonderfully creative photos and to discover how other Lens Artists have interpreted this theme.

Take care, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

Quick question. Is it acceptable to mix my tenses as I did in that second poem? Okay, I fixed it because it bothered me but it lacks something now. It will do.

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He – Red Capped Robin

Reprise from August 2019 – the start of the fires on the east coast of Australia that traumatised a nation.

I don’t know why my husband and I felt compelled to stop at the old cemetery on that blustery day.  We certainly didn’t go there to take photos.  So maybe it was intuition, a guiding hand.  The power of the robin.  He.  Red-capped robin. Read more

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Lens-Artists: Summer Vibes

It’s July so you know what that means. July is when the dedicated, hard-working hosts of the incredibly popular Lens-Artists Photo Challenge take a well earned break from their hosting duties and co-opt five guest hosts to take on this important responsibility. This week, Andre from My Blog – solaner is hosting the challenge and he has invited us to feel the summer vibe. It’s winter here in the Southern Hemisphere but I will try.

Read more
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Winter’s Warmth

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. But first, a poem.

Winter’s Warmth
The week has its own pace.
It takes it at its leisure.
Time slows in mid winter’s lull –
after autumn’s sprawling fall and
before spring’s high fever.
Warmth and comfort, the must-haves
of the season. Cottage pie and casserole.
Walk a little faster.

Photo by Ana M. on Pexels.com

I mostly have been an island unto myself this week. The dogs have kept me company. The young men of the household have been leading their own lives and my True Love has returned to work. My brain has been resting. Friday song day had not even entered my head until a couple of hours ago. I suppose I must pick something.

Today I have chosen not to overthink this task. So let’s get comfy and listen to Erik Satie’s Gnossienne 1 for koto, electric bass, vibraphone and flute, arranged and performed by Ensemble Delydious, fronted by Günter Wehinger. Enjoy.

Take it easy, everyone. Be your own sun and share your warmth with those around you.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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The Changing Seasons – May 2022

May in Canberra (Australia) – Moments in May, momentous May, May in triptychs. But first, a poem, a kind of triptych of course.

May Change

Filaments of May morph and coalesce
‘twixt pearlescent rain and golden light,
while rising power bills outstrip inflation.

Leaves and pamphlets flutter in the breeze.
People power in technicolour. Rejoice!
Winter is upon us and Australia is infectious.

Sadly, little bird flies the coop. Man in repose,
rises. Listen, do you hear that?
Tick-tick, tick-tick, as we turn the corner.

What does it all mean, I hear you ask? Autumn finished slowly. It rained on and off, but the sun broke through often enough to dally with our affections. Jack Frost flirted, adding impetus to deciduous trees still reluctant to toss aside their colourful costumes. The wildlife has begun jockeying for power and has cleared out the pantry in preparation for next Spring’s bounty. There was, nevertheless, time for bathing. Speaking of bathing, a national election was held. The government changed amid pledges of a new, kinder, more collaborative polity in the future. My True Love survived his surgery. Our canary, Pan of the Wild Music, died. I got hearing aids today. I wish I could have heard Pan sing one last time. Apparently, I still don’t listen to my husband.

Triptych – black and white theme for the magpie juveniles who still haven’t left home.

Triptych – Crimson theme for crimson rosellas bathing.

Triptych – multicoloured mixed feelings.

Winter is now upon us. As I returned from my hearing aid fitting, the Brindabella range was shrouded in snow clouds. Rain hammered loudly on the windscreen. We’ve definitely turned a corner. It sounds like tick-tick, tick-tick.

This is my response to The Changing Seasons photo challenge, jointly hosted by Ju-Lyn (Touring My Backyard) and Brian (Bushboys World). This post is also doubling as my contribution to the triptych themed Lens-Artists Photo Challenge.

Goodnight, everyone. Be well, be kind and try to listen.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

About the Photos:
The last photo in the first two triptychs were taken by my True Love. I snapped the rest.