One Eyed World of Wonder.

From slumbering darkness, I’m whipped into bright light and warm air – but where?

In the car, balancing on the steering wheel, we’re roaming a new road. Be it dirt, sand, or asphalt, I’ve been there, crossing countless kilometres, to scan sunsets, sunrises and storm clouds. I’ve felt the wind, the smog, and arid desert dust, and sweltered within the humid monsoons. But nothing is scarier than to cringe against a bushfire’s slickened heat, where wounds and memories are healed within the smooth roll of cool salty seas.

I’ve faced wide-eyed green tree frogs awakening for the change of tropical seasons and kissed sand covered dog noses. I’ve flinched at a Barramundi’s watery tail-flick propelling above water-lily riddled billabongs. It was a place to track a sea eagle’s wingspan that’s mirrored across stilled waters at dawn’s first light.

I’ve been swallowed amongst the street mazes, darkened alleys, and shifting crowds. Dodged bike wheel rolls and rumbling engines. Stooped before hovering helicopters. Eyed roaring planes soaring above skeletal cranes, peppering overpopulated city skylines.

Yet, I’ve basked in this galaxy’s starlit skies of silence, while camped on secluded summits to watch the eclipsing blood moon spread shadows across the desolate outback.

I’ve witnessed weddings, celebrations, and ancient mystical ceremonies. The loud and proud singing shouts of team players. And yet, I still heard a child’s whispering wish follow a falling star.

This world contains much beauty which my owner wants me to see. As I aim, focus, snap and save, with hope of sharing and keeping what they see is true.

Then I’m shoved into darkness once again.

Brought out, stripped down. Memory’s downloaded. Battery’s re-charged. Lens cleaned. Then packed away. Ready.

And I wait.

Until my eye’s re-opened to capture another small part of this planet’s picturesque magnificence.

(300 words)

First published 20/10/2015

 

from ‘MOVING MOMENTS’

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Dry Season Southerners

I live in the land of: beer; barbecues; 4wd’s; crocodiles; poisonous snakes; and deadly spiders. Once considered the last frontier. It’s tough. Rugged. Yet beautiful.
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There’s two seasons, simply known as the Wet and the Dry.

For six months of the year we have Continue reading “Dry Season Southerners”