Red(ish) Fruit Salad

islands parting tides as meteors burn the air.
Oysters powder to chalk in my hands.

– from ‘The River’ by Robert Adamson

It’s been raining for days.* Heavy rains that leave the air humid and cloying. A sky washed in bruised shades of grey. It makes the spring greens look impossibly greener, the overhead leaves seem closer reflected into prisms by raindrops. T describes the weather in the simplest terms: rain, sun, rain, sun, rain, sun, rain. An apt description. We walked to school the other days in gumboots and umbrellas, W’s skirt tucked up inside her rain jacket. And she still had to change into a dry set of clothes by the time we got there.  Continue reading “Red(ish) Fruit Salad”

Charred Broccolini

I’m still asleep
but you know I will wake
if you need

– from ‘Wangal Morning’, Evelyn Araluen

It’s been a wet spring here in Narrm/Melbourne. The sound of the rain on our deck woke me up from a deep sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. I’d been dreaming of oceans and bridges and artworks and I lay awake for ages in the still-dark, listening to my kids breathing in the other room and the wind rattling our doorframe.  Continue reading “Charred Broccolini”