BANNER
koi sidebar

A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 13, Number 1, March 2019
line


Amelia Fielden
Canberra, ACT, Australia


Windows

southerlies
riding white horses
through the bay
forever in rhythm
with grandmother’s tales

My grandparents lived for forty years in a small apartment on the northern hill above Coogee Beach. I often stayed with them. My bed was in the back room, a room filled with beach views and sounds of the Tasman Sea. There I slept the deepest of sleeps.

suck and thump
suck and thump, surf
against sand:
a Sydney lullaby
sung through salt-smeared windows

As a teacher on exchange in Kyushu, I shared an apartment on the tip of a peninsula dividing Hakata Harbour from the Japan Sea. My housemate chose the western-style front bedroom, leaving for me the tatami room with a wall of glass overlooking the harbour.

ocean liners
glide past bonsai islands
while I sip tea
turning the bowl to admire
its familiar foreign form

Echoes from the water were gentler than at Coogee but had the same lulling effect on my nights.

Older now, I have made three visits to friends living on the Canadian island of Gabriola, an island accessible only by ferry.

two seagulls
perched on a short plank
facing
in opposite directions
as it drifts through the straits

The Salish Sea surges onto the pebbly strand below my friends' wild cliff-top garden.

otters in the mist
among swathes of grey satin
over the bay
ripples widen, dark heads
surfacing, disappearing

French windows open wide in the guest room. I watch moonlight on the waves, then sleep and wake to their cadence.

narrowing
with each high tide
the sands, my life
fade in the twilight . . .
and yet, and yet

line

end

| contents page | next tanka prose |

koi sidebar r