DIRT ROAD HERITAGE SOCIETY

DIRT ROAD HERITAGE SOCIETY

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power issues
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Moon Phase




POETRY

Tuesday, October 30

office idyll


My compass' needle points
to far away shores and
remote distances call
fetching me,
my mind;
quietening my squall-cries,
and they drown, float,
transmogrify
into those of seabirds
flinging white-on-grey,
windy-winging,
stormbird-singing.

Rain dripping from pandanas
answers every need in me.
This solitudinal fancy
so suspends every day
in a dream that i walk
flattered city streets
strewn with crab-beads and coral,
seaweed and shell;
prints of bare feet.

It is no shame now to recall
youth and time, 
the beach years
and the choral
of seabirds;
to recline
in an office chair 
for a moment spared
in passionate fantasy 
of wind and rain, 
of tossed, foamy sea.

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