creative writing
I am tenderly enfolded by the mantle of this Earth,
the living soil beneath me
the silent air around me mingling in me
body tidal as the sea
rain on my skin.
When frogmouths call
she comes, her
great wings softly beating
amid night wind in the eucalypts,
cloud rising to
the stars –
she
who broods over waters
she
a hot summer night
she
the oldest mystery
is here.
Brisbane, 1997
