A cloudy Sunday

is suddenly awash

in late afternoon sunshine

that makes me

catch my breath

as spring battles

to assert itself.

The green shrubs and plants

glow gold

as a lorikeet

snacks on the grevillea

in this sacramental moment

of peace and joy.

Sustaining grace

The sky

Is festooned

In all manner

Of cloudy raiment

At dawn’s first light.

Near the horizon

A fierce glow

Of reds and oranges

That kisses other clouds


Joyously, the tableau grows

Until its time is passed.

This ephemeral beauty

Is a sustaining grace

For the gift

Of another day. 


How many times

have I walked on the sand


at my local beach?

Sandcastles and

holes dug by children


small and large

by canine friends.

Lumps of wood


human detritus

shells, rocks

graveyard for a variety

of aquatic life.


Yet seeing


transfixed me this morning.

How many sets of footprints

have marked the sand

only to be erased

by wind and water?

Such a passing marker

of the human race

that considers itself

so dominant

so apart

from the rest of God’s creation.


Are footprints

a symbol

a reminder

like this pandemic

that we are passing?

And what will will we do

with our brief time?

Shall we build

or destroy?


Feeding my soul

Music feeds my soul.

Elevating me

with its grandeur,

calming me

when needed.

Evocative of



good times.

Energising me

with its beat

or driving guitar;

stirring me

to justice.

Its benefits are amplified

in concert,

especially connecting

as fans belt out the chorus



I survive without it.

I live with it.

What really matters?

All the ‘stuff’

that we can aspire to own,

does it actually

own us?

So caught up in wanting

and having


that we can neglect

what really matters

like loved ones

and integrity

and friends

as well as the gifts

we cannot buy

that make life worth living

like sunshine


a flower

a smile




It’s hard to know

where to start

I feel so lucky being married

for so many years

to a woman I adore.

This woman is

my best friend

soul mate

and lover.

This woman who

tolerates all my flaws

and still loves me.

It is her love

that has freed me

to be the best version

of me – which is

no mean feat.


My theological training

taught me

that we are each

made in the image

of God who is love.

We are made whole

when we give ourselves

freely in love.


And I get to live

that graced reality.



There is a joy

I experience

when I smell

boronia in bloom.


This nondescript plant

only has its

small brown bell-shaped flowers

one month in the year

but they signal

spring is close.


So the smell

triggers memories

of emerging from winter

but there is also

a delicate sweetness

to the fragrance

unlike any other

that is guaranteed

to put a smile

on my face.


Gratitude is always important

but especially

during a lockdown.




Shining stump of a rainbow

which dives into the bay,

shrouded in clouds

from white to

shades of grey.

It presides over a scene

notable for its icy, lashing wind

and waves

topped in white,

crashing against the shore

spreading seaweed and human detritus.


Some may say.

I think it’s best described as


Glorious wonder