October 8, 2013 § Leave a comment

In an inspired moment
the sun whispered to the winter wind —
Let me hold you.

April 25, 2013 § Leave a comment

Paper, paper, scissors –
rocks greet my mornings
as the cold-blooded scramble
to hide another day.

Lemons,
fruit in plenty;
another summer,
another thirst.

August 9, 2012 § 2 Comments

The wind whispers a secret to the dust in tongues I do not understand, and yet the smell on its breath is enough to know – a storm is approaching.

The fires were put out before the sun could sail beyond another millennia of dreams. Lightening glowed distantly and threw itself against a wide desert sky, leaving pinpricks of light to guide a belated moon to rise. Hours of visible darkness stretched on as beetles and lizards awoke to leave stories in the sand; stories that caused stars to shiver and playfully mirror patterns in the sky; stories that deluded sleep.

June 8, 2012 § 6 Comments

Rain lightly dusts us in a breeze rattling through tea bushes and silver oak, reminiscent of the spray of the sea.

The monsoons arrived a week ago and were quick to kidnap the steady sun. We soon found ourselves in the liberating shackles of clouds as they began reclaiming the mountains with plundering winds. We seem to have returned to the routine madness of the skies, as light and warmth joyously dance through our valleys in silence.

June 4, 2012 § 8 Comments

A few cloudless hours and a week ago, his body was found. Stiff from the weather, there was a meagre moment of doubt, cleared immediately by the visible chip on his left horn; Boltu was dead. He lay unharmed, as if age merely ran him down and swiftly led him away through the night. There wasn’t much to be said, so they charred his massive body, returning it to the earth.

Time has passed; schools have reopened with the first sighting of monsoon clouds, nudging us on with gentle reminders that with the changing of seasons and tides, we become stories with words adrift.

May 20, 2012 § 2 Comments

Early morning clouds come bounding in to nudge us gently out of bed. They gather, carrying us into the open to view the day. We float onward, and as they disperse, remain dangling in the mist. Looking east, we gape at the apparent moon that perilously balances all its weight on a neighbouring hill. We hadn’t been able to stare at the glare for days, but the sun calmly watches us as the mist begins to clear, trees shake out rain, and we resume searching for foot holes.

Smoke billows rebelliously on the road as the strident afternoon sun teases it forth.

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