Note book pages

when we are coming into Melbourne from Seymour
cows raise their heads in wonder
lambs jump on the back of fashinistas

tracks take the weather
in their stride

now landscapes green at
this wet end of a long winter

in the carriage women
talk of babies as their babies cry
and a litter of nine pups
five died - "Why'd they die?"
"Dunno. Maybe she rolled
over on them. It was
her first litter."

my mother always said, "You're either
Catholic or careless - and I
was both!" I tell this to the girl
next to me - as strangers
we're discussing our families
and why we live in small country towns.

it is difficult to picture
Melbourne being born
its lean-tos and humpies
its wattle and daub
rising up on the muddy earth
like single cell amoebas
from the Yarra River
the first colonial women
in their London dresses and bonnets
baby grands full of seagulls
wilde winds playing aeolian tunes
in the dunes ...

'Next stop, Broadmeadows'

~
{return journey}

back on the Vline
on to Shepparton
four pensioners sit
across the aisle from me
and share their political wisdom -
straight off the telly
and the popular press

"I been in Queensland recently and I talked to people, hundreds, I talked to hundreds of people - and none of them, absolutely none, not one, were for Labor. And, and they weren't your Yuppies, nothing like that, just everyday people - none of them for Labor! It's gunna be a landslide! a landslide! Believe me, I tell ya ..."

after half an hour of this
i look out my window
where kids scamper
after a nanny goat in
a green meadow.
such joy! such delight!

~

home again

the dog runs circles