Category Archives: Nature Poetry

Dragonfly-Sized Mosquitos

Cliff Head campground after driving the Indian Ocean Drive from Mingenew, and Mullewa and Tenindewa before that: the whole Northern (wildflower) Loop done with most of the southern in one day, and now seeing how far the road is open before it’s closed for roadwords ahead. And just before we can go no further we turn into Cliff Head and down to an almost empty campground bar a couple of caravans. We set up and eat dinner on the beach just before sunset, all alone except for a whole swarm of dragonfly-sized mosquitos getting blown in the wind south to north. Maybe there are no other campers because they’ve been carried away by these things. They fly, dopily, into the side of our heads. They are giant mosquitos, and somewhat slow. To keep them from feeding on us we are forced to kill those that land on our skin. We keep them and later throw them on the fire, hoping they and the smoke will keep others away.

The next morning they are still around, even in the daylight. While above the cirrus are also appearing in long streaks, like the tracks of mosquito wings. More heat approaching.

Crescent Moon and Venus

Just past sunset and the crescent moon and Venus are side by side, almost touching. The next night the moon moves on, waxing; and on during the next night; and on; until it becomes gibbous. And Venus, it seems, is left behind, with the Sun.

Upper Swan Water and Trees

Drive out to Bells Rapids at the top of the Swan and walk up to where it becomes the Avon. The water levels are way up on last time, with actual rapids and improvised trails where the river has flooded the banks and walkways. The main water is brown, as are most side puddles, but there are also little streams that tickle down valleys from the side, at right angels to the river, with water more clear. And yet, there are still many dead trees right by the river’s bank—like kwell(ilul) the skeoak, with its shallow roots. I guess many didn’t make it through the long, dry summer, and stand now dead, in or near the water.

Yellow and Purple

Late August lakeside and noticing the appearance of both yellow and purple flowers— yellow wattle, prickly moses, parrot bush; purple wisteria, guichenotia, other things—so often together; more because of the other; complementary.

On Opening the Window Blind

I open the window to red earth Australia—Pilbara or Midwest Gascoyne—around sunset. We look east. A hazy sky, old waterways, ridge lines in the evening light glowing. A road, a homestead, a couple of salt-lake-looking formations. The eastern horizon is orange, yellow, green, blue. A seasonal riverbed. Another homestead. A minesite. River valley. Magenta then peach above on the horizon (darker red to apricot). Areas of saltlakes. Orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo sky. Lights at minesite; a single one elsewhere. Now the sky is orange, yellow, blue. More lights. More saltlakes. Hazy darkness. More lights. Sudden country and connection.