Home for the day with a visit from Alh.  Years back I lived in Bilambil and could see Mt Warning. That’s the image below. I liked the Caldera life. I like sugar cane and cane fires and the mountain.

I have lived all my life along the Eastern Coast of NSW. For little bits of time I have crossed the Queensland border and early on I went inland a bit for a couple of years. Mostly – SYDNEY and the North Coast.

Now I am in t he town I came to in the early 70s. My children were born here and I married here. If I were a person who had “home” this would be “home.”


Mt Warning from Bilambil

So I go on WAITING.

Sitting in the MEANTIME corridor.


Quite peaceful.

Facebook photos aren’t working tonight so I shall need to find a different activity. Maybe I will update my Recovery Blog.

Tomorrow I am meant to go to a kind of a small wake for Julia. We will see what tomorrow brings.




Mount Warning


Peter Skrzynecki

It was the mountain
I was always going to climb —
Swore that heat would not tire me,
Flowers and snakes could not
Poison my hands or feet:
Butcher-birds and crows become
Omens of good fortune, guides
To an undergrowth track.

Spurred on by the sight
Of the mountain, hill after hill
I climbed for a vantage point:
Felt the ice of a willow’s breath,
Touched the fire that does not burn
In a flame-tree’s midday leaves.

Its summits clouded in mist
Or the end-of-spring fires,
I walked through ploughed fields
To its foot-hills, chewed
Grass and swallowed rain-water,
Gauging its height from burnt-out stumps.
Cattle followed like a scattered procession,
Pausing at the creek.
                       I returned home
By a different path — plagued by
Its shape and my hesitation.

Under the cover of sunset
I opened my door to its shadow —
Abysmal at the threshold!
Prayed that winds and rain
Might wash it backwards, into
The desert overnight.

Talking to people, trailing
Mullet and catfish,
Searching creek-banks for rainbow-birds
And tortoises — day and night
The mountain haunted me
Like a dying parent’s curse.

It became the wish
I never made—the child I never had,
Promise I was not to keep,
Bible I should never open:
Tomorrow’s mountain, always there,
To be climbed without loss and fear.

Unsifted by memory for the shallows of a dream
I left the mountain like gold in a stream.



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