Famous Reporter # 13: June, 1996

 

 

Lyn Reeves

 

SOLSTICE: BRUNY ISLAND

 

          Late evening, sea-blown rain. Light

          falls through misted glass. Sky’s

          a gull grey, rain’s a flurry of feathers

          brushing the iron roof. Sparrows’

          monotonous cheep and the soft

          rustle as you turn the pages

          of your book, make silence deep.

          Waves wash the beach. The sound

          licks memory’s wounds. Emptiness.

          Exiled distance. Lonely space.

          Unuttered grief the canvas stretched

          taut across the frame of years.

 

          Nine o’clock. Night shadows fill

          the clustering eucalypt and pine

          but sea and sky, wet through,

          still gleam with light. Gently

          our cabin rests on its dune-grass bed.

          Sheltered, warm by the fire,

          we do not speak - hopes, fears.

          Fragile beads, moisture from our breath,

          glitter on the window pane.