Tuesday, 17 July 2012


this morning, early
when i walked out to feed the chooks
i looked up into the wintry geometry of the birch trees
of which there is a small copse which i planted 
when i first arrived, in honour of my father

(i remember standing on the veranda 
and throwing nine sticks into the air
then planting a birch in each spot they had landed)

this morning they offered me a gift
rows of clear pearl drops of rain
and each one reflecting the world around it
so many wortlds
so many stories

"there is no name for what i want to be when i grow up"

Friday, 6 July 2012


 the forest provides 
that which we require in stillness


listening to your heart beat

finding you way 
out of confusion

finding answers
to your questions

practice this:

'sitting quietly, doing nothing'