Original Poem by Susan Woodhead
…a poem about letting go…

Morning Bay and the latent sun dances ahead of the incoming tide;
Sail boats sway indecisively in the gentle push and pull,
Their empty masts define distant vignettes of an ancient shore.

Barnacled red buoys bob lightly, harbouring safe channel,
The lazy wash of 4 knots ripples the painterly water aside,
Makes way for the pied cormorant’s intentional glide.

There was an echidna in the back garden this morning,
Down past the Corymbia,
Blood-red resin oozing indigenous memory from tessellated tiled bark -
His curious waddling gait - what a lark!
Meticulous quills curating a Triassic back,
Manicured points colour-braided to a spikey tuxedo-tail.
Unseen, the ant trail’s invisible line hugged the base of the Maculata stump,
Black leather-bound snout snuffling clumps of hydrous orange clay,
Nosing the exposed roots of the dying Poinciana.

I picked up branches after the storm;
A thousand Jacaranda bells sprinkled carelessly across the rain-jewelled lawn,
The Angophora’s new bark gleaming quietly in the dawn.

It’s been a while since we spoke.
‍ ‍
My time drifts, shifts,
Lines that once sought to secure, I ignore;
I don’t crave your anchor…..any more.