What a discrepancy between the joyful winging of birds and the fear in men and women… (Jean Vanier, The Broken Body) And how one cricket starts a neighbourhood symphony in the grass of our roaming near the concrete of our homing in these streets and these footpaths at a Friday-pink dusk while the street inContinue reading “Avenue (Glenroy Lent #6)”
Tag Archives: Melbourne
Streets to Live In (Glenroy Lent #4)
For now, where do we live? These streets are made for walking: quiet, reflective, built atop a hill where the cityscape sinks beneath a thoughtful gaze. No walls to be broken, no walls to repair; watered gardens greet the roaming eye, and here an expectant couple waits at the edge of the evening street. FruitContinue reading “Streets to Live In (Glenroy Lent #4)”
Wheatsheaf (Glenroy Lent #3)
Some hands hold their stories tight; others hold them open, to say, Here I came when the war was done, or, Here I lost my mother. Hands cupped like hearts line the street; stories filling houses beat. Old street names speak of sheaves of wheat; some go out weeping, some sing, some, sleeping, dream ofContinue reading “Wheatsheaf (Glenroy Lent #3)”
Wednesday’s Colours (Glenroy Lent #2)
Fire is the colour of the eastbound sun lighting the face of the dusty sky. Ash is the colour of this roadwork black, of tarmac where the plane lost flight. Red is the colour of the traffic light, gold the colour in the new day’s eye, and ash to ash is this road we drive;Continue reading “Wednesday’s Colours (Glenroy Lent #2)”
Glenroy Lent: Long Shrift
Suburb has its own time. Nestled just beneath city’s scheduled view, it sits when city runs. It holds deep memories and secrets, left in garages, holds hopes in council offices. Roadwork punctuates the day’s first lines. Promises in orange signs declare: something soon is happening. Prepare. You may have left your lunch behind, may haveContinue reading “Glenroy Lent: Long Shrift”
In Transit
…lucky to be leafless: Deciduous reminder to let go. (Eugene Peterson, “Blessed are the poor in spirit”) Lost in auto-pilot, I find myself, false turn on false turn, circling in this airport country where lanes diverge to let the suitcase-laden taxi-bound find ways to cities, and ways away. A loop, and again I am whereContinue reading “In Transit”
Westgate Country
Did you know that Melbourne has a Brooklyn? Mostly factories, but behind the freeway Nestled amidst houses there’s a church, in Low-ecclesiastic cream brick. Today On my way to work I saw it, vacant Being Wednesday. But on Sunday there’s family. And I smelt the Spotswood Vegemite plant With its playful chimneys; a child mightContinue reading “Westgate Country”
Thirty-Two Blessings
Gratitude begets gratitude, just as love begets love. (Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved) That I am begotten by love, Sustained That my heart beats And my feet move That the air is rich For me to breathe That love is patient, That love is kind That I can know What goodness is That IContinue reading “Thirty-Two Blessings”
Stillness and Flight
Within this mist we could be anywhere: A grassy knoll sits where the freeway Meets the the Bridge; the air is frozen today And the smell of Vegemite hangs in the air. Chimneys puff in protest or in vapour prayer; The sky in its veil has nothing to say, But my father’s taught me inContinue reading “Stillness and Flight”
Memory in Rain
Essendon is drenched today. On Albion And Buckley where my Granddad learnt to walk, To talk, lies last night’s deluge in puddles, In screen of watery sheen, while vermillion Morning climbs the eastern sky. When we talk Of heritage, does it sit in huddles Like these? old buildings nestled in new ones And the streetsContinue reading “Memory in Rain”
The Consolations of Writing 