January 23rd, 2021Local Lines
A moment arrived in the stillness of the garden
Breathing in the morning sun, watching the wind
Nearby in the town, city crowds rush in bustling for car parks,
scanning shop windows wondering what is missing,
maybe it will arrive with the special order of coffee,
a day away from the city of millions now spent
crammed into the small shopping strip of a country town
on the brink of losing its soul.
While in the splendour of the hills and forest
the business of monarch butterflies
drinking nectar from gardenia flowers is taking place
The wind shimmers and rustles the leaves of trees
And the birds sing their little songs with passion
In this wonder I hear the origin of music
Wind blowing across taut fibre,
or through hollow reeds
and thunderclap crescendos.
I am glad to have grown old, knowing the Zephyr breeze
The Greeks knew the wind to be sentient
a breeze so subtle it enters the heart, inducing raptures
that banish burdens and come to rest
Now the judges’ eye is blind and ears grow into silence
each day with its simple gifts savoured quietly
In this way there is enough for everyone
everyone is at the table and there is enough.
- Frances Guerin
Frances’ studio is located at Wheatsheaf in the Wombat Forest. Her studio serves both her creative spirit and visitors who come for open studio visits, community exhibitions and meditation practice.
