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page 34

Quendryth Young, Australia


Winter Ginko


a toddler
dancing on the sand
we all fall down

A dozen poets in scarves and woolly hats clutch pencils and note pads as we stroll along the beach. Choppy white waters rollick up onto the shore and the basalt breakwater sparkles with crystals. We walk apart in meditative silence. From time to time a poet sits, back to the wind, and scribbles. As we share first drafts around the picnic table our words tumble out to intertwine with a chorus of wattle birds in the littoral forest.

a head
crossing the bay
day moon

 


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