the sun is struggling to meet
it's commitments this morn
and sits low on the mountain tops
smudging the sky pink and
charcoalred as it climbs wearily into the clouded sky

in reality, nothing much wants to get out of bed
the rooster only gave
a half- hearyed crow
the kookaburra's just chuckled and then went back to bed

as for you and me still here
away from home
we snuggle down into tje warmth and take comfort
in the childfree zone..

it is too cold to do anything other...
until the sun gets it's act
together
it's snooze time ,
thanks to
the ****** cold, mountain
weather...

two small children
bundled up like
michelan men
scramble around
the spider frame
monkey bars
their breath
little puffing billy clouds
of i think i can
as they play and race
each other to
the platform
an slide in
exuberant joy
down the red slippery slide
i smile at the ability
that most children have
to find and capture
this joy...
and savour it.

in church old
draughty, cold
listen to sermon told
twenty times or more
even the vicar sounds bored

seats long oaken planks
window stained glass,
beautiful,
but,
drear on this dark
and cloudy, autumn morn..

does god really live here
in this dismal place
or does he choose to live
in a heart filled  with grace.
i suppose if omniscient the answer
is both.....

there is a bug,
on the
windscreen,
hanging on tight.
they must
be
getting
the thrill of their
tiny life
we are zooming along
at  about 65k
irony is
the little bug
was
just looking
for
a quiet place
to stay.

i went to the sea shore.on this cold winter eve

i stand with feet in cold cold
water
trouser legs rolled up to my knees
body wrapped in a chunky
hoodie
curly hair, streaming in the bitter wind.
in my hand, a pebble
in my mind, your name
i stand thinking, crying
as the wave pound in and
the wind takes my breath
i sigh and throw the pebble
as far into the breakwater
as i can..
in letting you go... i can leave

the sadness rolls in
like waves eroding the shore
and the tides coming in
forecast of more storms
and heavy weather
skys dismal,pewter grey
friend is dying
and the waves are
eroding  my footholds away
kingtide baby, kingtide.

my first job,
i think i was about seven
was to do my grandfathers washing,
every saturday  morning.
we had chores at home and got an allowance.
but this was a way to supplement it.

so every saturday,
i would ride across town, with my brothers and...

spray preen on stains,
scrub collars with solvol
measure out omo powders
then wait ten minutes
oftenat this time,
i would play with the cat, munster, who was my,
self-designated foreman.

then to start,
water and omo, into
the machine, an old twin tub
drop in the first load,
wait for it to process,
sitting on the laundry step, reading the latest book....
CS Lewis' Narnian series or Enid Blytons Famous Five.

you could only read,
at this point,
because after the first load had stopped washing,
it was into the spinner
and then it was,
a juggle of washing, spinning, filling water levels and getting the wet washing into the basket, without, dropping any.

now,  i was still,
to short to hang out
the washing, on the hills hoist,
but i would call for my assistant, Aunty Barb
and off we would go down to the line .... she would hang...
but i would hand
items and pegs up to her.

once all the washing was done, all that was left was,
one final rinse,
of the machine with
lemon pin-o-cleen,
a wipe with a dry cloth
and my labours were done.

time for a cup of tea,
a peice of gingerbread
and payment of  wages $3.50- $5.00
depending on the size
of the wash.