Picture a moment a huge wattle covered in bumblebee style blossoms, But it’s late in the season and the slightest bump or breeze makes them fall… The wind starts picking up creating a delightful blossom fuzz ‘snow’, Mesmerised you watch them float towards the ground as the wind plays, For this delicate dance ’tis one of natures more quintessential forays…
Ever gently one fluffy yellow segment floats onto your hand, ’Tis like holding the tiniest of delicate feathers you’ve ever seen, Created by the same force of nature that is known for destruction, Thus pondering this polarity you watch the breeze pick it up once again, And allow it to whisk away the debris you’re holding without strain.
This gentle wisp of breeze now continues its seraphic mission, Blowing segment by segment each blossom from the tree, And energetic element by element from your auras debris, Easing your mind of the grasp of the days stresses demolition, Allowing space for you to heal your soul - grounded with volition…
As the unseen weight of energetic debris lifts from your being, You note the new vibrance of the wattle seemingly restored, Though it may be just your perspective as you notice leaves before now ignored, Contemplating what of you can now be seen that’s imploring for healing, You venture from this moment with a much lighter feeling.
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~ A note for those wondering; no the picture is not wattle… ’tis mulga… one of the wattles outback ‘cousins’. 🙂
Imagine for a moment; you’re standing on the veranda, Of a beautiful Queenslander Style home, Surrounded by an abundance of blue toned gum trees… The humidity of the day has made their eucalypt smell, Intensely fill the air ~ though not as bad as the not far away gidgees…
In a moment the sky swiftly darkens to shades off deep charcoal grey, Whilst the dust filled wind roars through the leaves, You take shelter in the most secure part of the house, As the sky seems to literally open up with heavy rain, You can’t see the trees, for this style of storm can only douse.
The raindrops landing on the roof are near deafening, Yet the distant lightning’s thunder still grumbles overhead, And one can still hear the ping of the hail when it starts, Thus one can only hope that amongst the wind and hail, That ‘tis only water to be what this downpour imparts…
Presently you notice the rain eases then stops, Near as abruptly as it began it’s now calm, Venturing out there's minimal debris but the yard’s inundated, Though this much water shall bring the rain lillys up, Thus for now bowing to mother natures prowess ’tis fated.
Imagine a moment; Your walking along an overgrown track, Red sandy dirt beneath your feet ~ warm morning sun caressing your back… The morning air ’tis a little bit sticky yet pleasant enough to breathe deeply with ease, As is a normal summers morn in the Outback, as the birdlife flit where they please…
Thus as you notice a flock of inch high wrens in a bush, Shades of blue and brown amongst the green, You can’t help but wonder ‘would they be like a young chicken to pat?’ As they look so soft, delicate and light as they hop through the branches and preen.
Next thing you know a trio of parrots zoom just o’er head, Enchanted by their multi green and yellow blur you follow, Though never leaving your path for the bush can be dangerous ’tis said, Yet you still watch these mostly green feathered beauties disappear into a tree hollow.
So as the grasses sway in the slightest of breeze with grace, You continue upon your chosen track with haste, For the morning now warms to the border of your comforts desire, Thus for now leaving the bush to itself ’tis what it shall of you now require…
As the wind blows through the gum leaves, The ants creep leaf to leaf through lower bushes, Grandmother sun bears down making the ground Too hot to walk upon and yet late afternoon there’s near not a sound…
For even the birdlife retreats in the summer, Seeking treetops cooler or some other water source, As the heat of an outback summers day can be unbearable, And ’tis abundantly worse before rain finds its course!
And yet there's an element of magic in the Aussie Outback, One wont find similar to any place else, Though hard to define ’tis nothing short of enchanting, Guaranteed to make you question if you’re even standing!
For when the breeze wisps the bushland into an oceanic chorus, And the red sand beneath ones feet ’tis hot as red coals, The wildlife looks hugable though it’s often dangerous, As one’s mind blunders things into different roles…
Plants are delicate in design and robust and sturdy, Whilst the colourful birdlife fill the air with song, If one’s to close their eyes and just feel and listen, ’Tis nothing short of magic imagining where each element may belong…
The Australian Outback though it be known, For vast red sand dunes and blue grey gumtrees... Can near be a place of horror stories once the weather is warm, Rather than the place tourists enjoy in wintertime's ease...
For many a heatwave that shan’t ease at night, ’Tis only eased slightly by the erratic wild storms delight, Whilst reptiles move into houses that are kept cooler, and the spiders appear where you least expect them... Creating the perfect place for real life nightmares to stem!
The wildlife ~ though cute ~ lines the roads all the more, For the slightest of moisture dusk through dawn has in store, Destroying both themselves and one’s car should they happen to startle, Creating yet another not so delightful debacle...
For to drive in the day though the blistering heat, As the bitumen melts is equally unsweet.. The Car’s hot enough to burn you when touched, And if the air conditioner goes - pray you survive, The heat inside is worse to endure and make it alive!
Thus is an element of the woes of the Outback in summertime, When thoughts of cold beers and water styled fun, Feature in thoughts this third of the year for most whom dwell, Knowing despite the blistering mayhem ‘tis a place truly second to none!
In the abyss of the nighttime post midnight ‘till dawn, One may think near not a thing may go on… Yet the bushland ’tis oft’ more alive night than day, For in the cool of the night in summer ’tis easier to play…
The old farm dogs may bark at the roo’s by the fence, Making those unadapted a touch on edge or tense, Owl’s are obviously patiently awaiting their prey, Which slithers or scampers wherever be it’s way.
Yet there always shall be times in the dark of the moon, When thing’s do happen to seem rather out of tune, As we perceive the nighttime to be a style of dark abyss, Fueling our minds into imagining something amiss…
Despite our knowing it to be far from the truth, Most stemming from fairy tale stories in our youth, We see night too often as a dark abyss to fear, Rather than just a time with less light to hold equally dear.
A cooler time where joey’s play and echidna’s snuffle, Snakes slither and wild pigs create a kerfuffle… Kultars and gecko’s explore to feast on their favorite insects, Whilst frogs and crickets flex their tune of dialects…
’Tis actually a sweeter time in the Outback vast, For the blistering heat of the day has finally passed, Allowing one to enjoy the serenity found in the abyss, Sans the chaos of the day, to replenish in the nights bliss.
Imagine for a moment, Your at a cozy quiet camp site, Deep in the Aussie bushland, Upon a damp, densely foggy morn…
Where the crisp morning air is what fills your lungs, As you venture out of your cozy warm swag into the fog, Taking a moment to revive the campfires coals, 'Fore finding a spot to sit upon a sturdy bark free log…
The fire soon enough starts warming the air in reach, And provides the heat needed for your morning warm beverage of choice, As you sip slowly birdsong breaks through the bush lands silence, ‘Tis nothing short of seraphic to hear their orchestral voice.
Then as the performance seems to reach near its peak, A rouge ray of sunshine breaks through the fog, Warming your soul from where it first touches, As cell by cell it starts dissolving any remaining dull monologue.
Effervescent style this warmth from the sun’s first rays, Ripples throughout your being then outward, Slowly driving back the surrounding fog cover, ‘Till there’s no chance of it returning today ‘till night-covers bombard…
Thus in the soul healing warmth of the early morn’s sun, One sits sipping seraphically one’s warm beverage, Absorbing the bliss of one’s bushland surrounds, Knowing for this day ‘tis now an abundance of bliss that has leverage…
Imagine a moment; You’re in the darkness of the earths crust, A seed - knowing of no light, Blissfully ignorant of what shall be in store, When one breaks through the ground with all one’s might…
Thus enjoy this moment in the comforting darkness, Drawing in energy from the soil like we do breath, ‘Till it feels as if one could overflow or burst, Yet take another ‘breath’ despite little capacity left.
Then the tip of a shoot breaks through one’s shell into the warm dirt, Slowly making it’s way ~ venturing forth towards the cooler air, Whilst another is soon making its way towards earths core, Though which direction ’tis going… a seed may actually be unaware.
Yet still it continues growing it’s way through the ground, Root tips weaving their way deeper into the earth, All the while being fueled by the abundant energy of the surrounding soil, That strengthens the deeper its connection becomes to nearth…
Imagine in this moment; you’re standing in the outback, With it’s iconic red sandy dirt beneath your feet, ‘Tis a warm dry afternoon in the springtime, And thus the scent of flowers is upon a light breeze, tangy ‘n’ sweet…
As you listen to the breeze dance amongst the gum leaves, Its ocean like melody lulls you into its sway, Into a more seraphic style of perspective, Allowing the breeze to for now blow all your troubles away….
Thus you’ve new space to taste the tangy scents upon the breeze, Which vary depending on the surrounding flora, Filling ones lungs slowly with abundant replenishment, Creating space to adjust for what lies soon in store!
As the wind dies down and the leaves calm, One listens to the birdsong tune that surrounds, ‘Tis so seraphic a picturesque scene one experiences here, With blue grey trees sheltering wildlife, Tall dried grasses, colourful birds, And the red dirt that abounds…
And then from seemingly nowhere the sand moves over ‘n’ around your feet, Moving whisplike a bit for a moment enchanting your attention, ‘Fore it starts swirling around at your ankles, Triggering an experience that takes a bit of comprehension…
Slowly this spiral increases in it’s velocity, ‘Tis not uncomfortable but the sandy element gritty, Growing its speed and height to one’s knees, Picking up, blowing away, and adjusting all that it please…
Soon one discovers they’re hip deep in a whirlpool, Consisting mostly of dust that sparkles in sunlight and wind just a touch cool, As your legs take on a new sensation before now unknown, ‘Fore further into this whirlwind one ‘tis ‘bout to be thrown.
Wind now begins to whip veraciously around your abdomen, Inching in height with each slow breath you take, The sensations across ones back remind one of that, Which an experienced masseuse may create…
Reaching chest height it soon creates an interesting illusion, Of treading water on a secluded private beach, Sensations of being sucked down within the whirlwind, Are not so overly far from ones imaginations reach…
Though reality ’tis completely the opposite, One is standing securely upon ones feet, The earth below supporting ones every move, In a way no being has the ability to ever beat.
Yet the whirlwind continues above ones shoulder height, Around one’s throat ~ creating an interesting insight, Sensations at every point neglected are now trying to fight, To gain your attention for going unnoticed to fester be their plight…
One’s line of sight fast becomes a blur of orange/red sparkle, Enlightening one to contemplate this moment’s debacle, Weightlessness brings it’s own variation of calming element particle, Whilst the whirlwind invigorates your every hairs follicle…
The whirlwind now swirls around one’s entire being, To thick to see through to anything on the other side, Bringing thoughts of unknown consequences to one’s mind, ‘Fore one truly has no idea the outcome to result from this ride…
Until the wind drops as through it never began, All around one’s position seems as it was before, Was the whirlwind just an illusion of some creators divine plan? Or something greater one need further explore?
When not a leaf is moving, And the day is sticky and thick, The heat's so dense it’s hard to breathe, As one contemplates lazing round near in the nick…
No bird is stirring though the midst of the day, ’Tis too dry and hot even for them, The flys though are out in force to drive most mad, However ’tis not a horror story from which this stems…
’Tis but a normal late spring/summers day in the outback, The sort of midday that blisters and burns, Australia into being the Sunburnt Country, When it's beaches and wintertime for which one yearns.
Thus when not a moment too late a glimpse of a breeze, Bring’s a micro glimmer of reliefs hope to all, One revels in it’s gentle kiss guiding the gum leaves to dance, From ground to tip it illusions a slight sway to the call.
Though soon the breeze light strengthens boldly, Lifting the top layer of dust in it’s path, As it strengthens to blow a rage through the bush, Leaving near no debris in it’s aftermath…
And yet as it roars through the scrub, One can’t help but notice how much it sounds like the ocean, Rising and crashing like waves on beach rocks, Although it be leaves here in motion.
The Poetic Life 2.0 