The water

 When Sissy 
went into the water
I followed.
Naturally.
Because I,
a younger brother,
had an older sister
I adored.
Well, what else is a sibling
water daughter for?
 I saw her wavering figure 
deep down ahead,
cutting through
crystalline
mountain water
like an arrow.
Streaming effervescence.
I saw her
touch the bottom
of washed sand,
of rounded stones
smoothed by years
of grinding,
with a pat of her hand.
Box ticked.
Camp task
number one
accomplished.
River mastered.
 She rose then.
A lithe silver nymph
spearing her way to the surface.
And I knew I was in trouble,
as I
continued down.
Caught by the current
like one of those
smooth stones,
tumbled and bumped,
grated and ground.
 I had no hardened surface 
to resist the battering,
no thick skin
to soften defeat,
no awareness
of up or down,
no ability
to swim or float,
not even the desire to flap about.
 I just froze,
one with the chilled water.
Not desperate,
not fearful.
That would come later.
I was
simply,
absolutely,
completely,
unable to comprehend
how I could find
myself here.
What did it mean
exactly?
 Incapacitated  
by lack of learning.
Paralysed
by ignorance.
Alone,
for the very first time
in my very short life,
the refracted sky
above was still blue,
the fluffy clouds
were still white,
the trees on the bank
were still green.
I,
however,
remained unseen.
 The water became 
my atmosphere,
thick,
tangible.
The known world
began to disappear.
The water
filled my ears.
Sound disappeared.
The water
filled my nose
and my mouth.
I couldn’t call out.
The weight
on my chest grew heavier.
I couldn’t breathe,
anything,
but water.

After the working bee

 

IMG_2396My colleagues have gone with a wave friendly

I sit enjoying my third cup of tea

restorative, after work as a volunteer bushy

the silence is golden, post a productive working bee

 

there is a koala up high looking down at me

a bee hive opposite, in the hollow of the tree

a cockatoo sits in shade on the creekside lee

blue sky above, sun shining brilliantly

hot on my back as summer clings enduringly

the wind is still, as still, as still can be

all I hear are sweet biscuits crunch, recharging energy

 

the water at my side this year flows sluggishly

not a ripple, not a splash, just mirror brown and glassy

the grass is dry and crisp, the colour yellow sandy

the eucalypts grey green, their heat resistance handy

not a breath ruffles the leaves hanging limp and lazy

the world outside is a world away, way too fast too crazy

 

the peace is as complete as any peace can be

as I sit in this place to savour, post working bee cup of tea