An Endless Afternoon



dragonflies hover in the afternoon sun, skimming
beneath bending rushes, past floating nardoo
to mossy banks soaked by springs from the wind-swept
mountain, its towering granite sentinels slumbering
in a sky of blinding blue with white wisps of
cirruS dwarfing the forest fringe of this damp oasis where frogs
continue their croaky commentary on the slowly sinking sun, and
a wombaT waddles beneath yellow pompoms 
of prickly moses, comforted
by the ‘cah-caRak’ of a currawong and the cackle of a
distant kookaburra, suddenly eclipsed by a rowdy mob of
black cockatoos laZily wheeling their way
toward the wooded mountain, passing high over
a marsupial lawn quiEtly grazed by bennett wallabies;
their russet shoulders the colour of dead
bracken; ..a mother’s .buLging pouch the same
pale parchment of the paperbarks punctuating
an impenetrable wall of whitE blossomed kunzea,
where superb fairy wrens flitter, startling a pademelon on
the verge of soft green carpet; blaCk button eyes alert;
small arms pinned to his yellow chest; twitching, twisting
ears separated by a fine brown mohawK; but then he resumes
his smorgasbord of grasses, his dark domed back dissolving
into shadowy recesses of the forest reflected In a shimmering pond
where dragonflies hover in the afternoon sun…

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an endless afternoon at the bush-girt yurt
beneath Mt Strzelecki on Flinders Island
September 2014, by Anne Norman

This rather long sentence is momentarily manifest in print on a brown paper skirt that girts the yurt at the foot of Mt Strzelecki… to adorn a little recital of shakuhachi and poetry I gave there on Sunday 28th September, 2014. Thank you to my lovely audience; to Helen who helped make the skirt girt yurt a possibility; and to Lila and David Tresemer for hosting my stay and allowing me to spend time in the environs of said yurt… a magic place.

I feel rather keen to have more endless afternoons in and around yurts … and momentarily girt them with wordy skirts!

forgive the poor quality of iPhone photos…
there are wallabies, pademelons and wombats hiding in there… trust me

“… the most awe inspiring, soaring experience, intensified by being able to look out the windows at the bush and mountain views that inspired one particular piece written during her time here. We learnt of the history of the art form and a little of how it is written down, read and performed. The result of blowing into what looks like a large school recorder made from bamboo with a few random holes is amazing. The technique is a whole body exercise with tilts of the head, nodding and shaking giving different sound effects. It was possible to hear the wind in the she-oaks, water trickling over rocks, the swoosh of a wave on the beach and the calls of birds. Just how lucky were we to be transported for an hour ?” Review by Lois Ireland, The Island News


About anne norman

musician, shakuhachi player, author, poet, tea lover...
This entry was posted in Environmental essays and poems, flinders island, my meanderings, poems and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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