Tasty Little Morsels

Dehydrated mouse brains*

are not my favourite snack.

Not my type

of party food

I’m likely to

turn up my nose

and swiftly give them back.

Even if they’re salted

I cannot stand the taste

so giving me these tidbits

will only be a waste

The fact that they’ve

been extricated

from a rodent’s head

only makes them worse

you see

to know a mouse is dead

in order to provide me

with this morsel

of good health.

I’ll never touch them,

No not me

I’ll use my meagre wealth

to dine on things

deemed more nutritious

and definitely

less suspicious

than these bitter,

bumpy, crunchy lumps

which I’ll leave behind

for other chumps.

If inadvertently devoured

one’s mouth is

permanently soured.

But worse than that

I’ve come to find

these little brains

seep into yours

and infiltrate your

point of view and

unsuspecting mind.

If you don’t believe me

try if you dare

for I know you’ll succumb

to a terrible scare

when you waken

after a turbulent night

to see cats and cheese

in a whole new light.

*aka…walnuts!

Remembrance Day

Struggling to make headway writing anything other than indecipherable scribble in my journal on the bus trip to Hobart yesterday due to the constant bumping and thumping, I decided to have a break and take in the scenery instead. It was a rather opportune moment, as the bus had just pulled off the highway to let a passenger off in Ross. Not until we headed off again did I realise what the time was, so on this day when the faithful had taken time out to remember those who had left this little country town and not returned, I couldn’t let the moment pass.

Remembrance Day

No minute’s silence

as the bus passes

the handful gathered

with bowed heads

at the cenotaph

in the heart of town.

No respect

for those long dead.

No time

to spare a thought.

No pause

in the race from

here to there.

Disregarding

all but the schedule.

The passenger

had walked the aisle

at two minutes to eleven,

stepped off

and just as quickly

the bus sucked in its door,

cocooning us

at one minute to,

pulled away from the kerb

and dared to disturb

the reverence

as it brushed past the diggers

with medalled chests

right on eleven.

No minute’s silence

No respect

for those long dead

No pause

in the race

from here to there.

The Grinning Mountain

Don’t you just love the quirkiness of Nature? I’m sure there are moments when Nature conspires to take us by surprise when we’re least expecting it. Put up the blind this morning after a yucky rainy day yesterday to see the mountain covered in snow. Hadn’t realised it was that cold, I mean we are into the last month of Spring after all, but then again this is Tasmania, so with camera in hand thought I’d head out to see if I could get a decent shot.

Didn’t have to go far. Heading for the bush, there staring down at me, taking me completely off guard, was the biggest, craziest grin. Cracked me up. I was tossing up whether the mountain was laughing at us mere mortals below who’ve been wondering when Spring would really show itself and give us a bit more warmth, or whether it was beckoning us to come and play.

By the sound of the steady stream of cars heading up the mountain, I think many must have forsaken their normal routine and responded to the call, a good choice I reckon.

Whether an untimely fall of snow, spectacular sunrise or sunset, invigorating bushwalk, cascading waterfall, the beautiful aroma as I mow under the lemon scented eucalypt, the greeting of a blue wren on my window sill while having my morning cuppa, an echidna who’s ventured far off course and is exploring my backyard, these things and countless more bring a smile to my face.

They take me out of my rigid little world of seemingly important things that insist on being done, and remind me there is a crazy creator out there who delights in giving us pleasure, who wants us to relate to him, and if he has to smile down at me from the mountain to get my attention, well, I guess that’s just the way he’s going to do it.