11th Letter In

You’d be forgiven for thinking I’m on a boat somewhere heading for some mountainous island. But no. I was safely grounded on the beach taking a long-range photo of White Island – a small rock situated a little offshore of St Kilda beach, Ōtepoti Dunedin.

This is another shot. Called White Island because of guano painting the top of it white. I always think of a little girl I once looked after who had never been to the beach before. When she saw the island she pointed to it and said, “What’s that piece of dirt?”

While I was walking on the beach, a helicopter flew over. It looked like it was on its way to the hospital. Helicopter rescues are part of everyday life now.

When I took this photo (about a week ago) earthlings were looking up to see a quarter moon waxing. Depending on whether you’re in the southern or northern hemisphere, a waxing moon is either a C-shape or a D-shape. We were looking at a C here in the southern hemisphere. Maybe by now it is a half moon … if the skies are clear enough where I live, I will try to remember to check on its status tonight.

Another shot taken on my early evening walk, which is getting darker and darker by the day. We are nearly at winter. There are things I like about winter – soup, shorter days (being a night owl, I do not mind longer nights) and scarves. Oh and I also have a bit of a liking for frost and snow.

A photo taken at peak-time for homeward bound traffic. A splatter of gulls had found a patch of something to feed on. This time of the day is a nice time to go for a walk, as long as you can get away from the traffic for part of it anyway.

At this time of the year, I particularly like the light on the water, the burgeoning lights as the city darkens and that sense of the day winding up, the idea of the warmth and cosiness that beckons as I head for home.

My poem, one of a few I’ve written about the inlet down the road from where I live and where I love to walk, all seasons and often at the same time every day (apart from when I don’t.)

The poem comes from my book, Upturned.

I am currently putting together poems for a fifth collection as yet untitled. It’s a slow process, but I am not in any hurry.

At the same time, I am working on my third novel, Muttonbird Tree House. It’s difficult fishing out of two ponds; going to two different parts of my brain (one poetry, one fictional prose) to find the fish.

But at least it’s not boring.

And I have music to listen to while I’m doing it. Take a listen to some samples. Link below.