Light mist

over the bay

heightens the otherworldly,

sacred nature

of this regualr morning scene.

Singing, dancing

and innocent giggles

of young girls

to a favourite video.

Waning red glow

adds highlights

to the otherwise

leaden skies

at day’s end.

Until my eyes are fully open,

such glimpses


of God’s handiwork

among the everyday

will have to suffice.


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.