Field Trip ©

Field Trip

I sit in the kitchen
surrounded by books, manuscripts.
I read a poem each day, especially Collins
and I'm instantly inspired.

I have a selection of poetry books
surrounding the table, a container of pens,
weekend notes, Gillian Welsh, mellow
on CD player, and coffee, cooling.

I have other things: council papers,
a synopsis half-written, dictionary,
thesaurus, books on wildflowers,
native plants, and suburban birds.

But I have had enough of that –
the isolation of creation on a laptop,
something that comes with the quietness
of a word, hum of refrigerator.

On the weekend I joined a convoy
of walkers, fitter and older than I.
But it was worth every aching climb,
heat rising to thirty-four degrees!

The kangaroo and joey in her pouch
caught with zoom lens is now in my folio.
A gift no doubt, along with other young
life waddling with mother duck.

A walk like no other, away from desk,
away from vaporous suburbia, sounds
of mowers, leaf-blowers, dogs. Moments
finding yourself once again on that field trip.

 Photographs taken at Yanchep National Park. The ten kilometre walk was called Ghost Trail Walk.
This poem is part of my daily writing practice and the photographs were taken on a Sony HD Cybershot with Optical Zoom.

Helen Hagemann 2015 ©