Secrets

Whenever my children find a creature outside, they want to know what it is.

So we look, we draw, we talk.

This poem was inspired by the discovery of an earthworm in the school garden.

(The picture above is a creature we discovered during another activity.)

There are secrets in the soil-

quiet whisperings of change

burrows dug down deep below

where raindrops can be drained.

Roomy earthy spaces

where air can flow right in

and plants can soak up nutrients

ready for the Spring.

S p r e a d i n g  out their roots

seeking anchorage in the ground,

the zone of elongation proud

as big new cells abound.

There are secrets in the soil-

tiny, delicate and thin-

lining all these brand new roots

drawing minerals quickly in.

Invisible to eyes

particles of nitrogen softly hide

in teensy little droppings

the worms have cast aside.

These tiny squirmy workers

know just what all plants need

and wriggle close beside them

ensuring they succeed.

The Jetty

I wrote this poem for my kids after a recent trip to Busselton, 

a small town on the coast of Western Australia. 

The jetty is well-known there - 

the swimming leg of the Busselton Ironman loops out and around it - 

and is one of the town's main attractions. 

Two kilometres long, it stretches right out into the ocean, 

ending at an underwater observatory.

The Jetty

It  s t r e t c h e s  out so far

from shallow to the deep.

To water that is dark and quiet

where all the fish can sleep.

The wooden planks are  w i d e

and lead us on our way.

We walk right near the edge to see

and feel the salty spray.

The clearness of the water-

the unclouded crystal green-

a window to the world below,

of life not always seen.

The seaweed waves its fronds,

a gentle to and fro.

Back and forth they sway-

the ocean's rhythm calm and  s l o w.

We see them dart around-

silver flashes down below.

As herring dance in synchrony-

the entire school in flow.

Other fish swim by-

their antics make a splash!

Drops of water jumping out

and landing with a splat!

Not everything is moving-

some creatures are so still.

Clinging tightly to the pillars-

holding fast with all their will.

The abalone shells

are round and very tough.

We reached arms down to touch them-

ridges prickly and quite rough.

Climbing up again

from underneath the jetty's shade,

We stood and watched just one more dance

'til the movements seemed to fade.

Stories

We recently took the kids to a dinosaur dig.

An activity put on by a local community forestry group.

We spent the afternoon outside.

They dug.

They got dirty.

And they discovered a story.

The earth is full of stories

of creatures long ago.

Some that roamed on trunk-like legs,

their gait steadied and slow.

Others moved much faster

and chased across the plains

ostrich-like, they sprang along

‘til on their prey they gained.

Sifting through the dirt

we found more pieces of the puzzle-

short pointed bones that could be claws

and some that might be muzzles.

Carefully we brushed away

the brownness of the ground

and searched in every corner

‘til all the bones were found.

Jaws with teeth all flat and  w i d e

were placed above a spine;

tail bones – short and spiky-

set in a great  l o n g  line.

Once the feet were added

we stood and looked down on

the creature we discovered-

a story not foregone.

The Wind

Can you hear the wind blow-

racing through the trees?

Can you hear it rustling,

dancing in the leaves?

Can you see the breeze move-

soft petals all a flutter?

Dry brown leaves twist in the air

landing in a jumbled clutter.

Can you feel the wind pass

right by you in a rush?

Currents charging forward

creating loud from peaceful hush.

Can you stretch your arms out

as  w i d e  as  w i d e  can be?

Look right up and shout out loud-

a holler full of glee!

Can you run and chase it

that freeing primal sound?

And when you catch it, keep it close-

both feet upon the ground.

Puddles

I love to jump in puddles-

big splashes flying ‘round

as raindrops falling from the sky

are dancing on the ground.

I love to jump in puddles

in gumboots shiny new-

splats and splotches leaping up

to decorate my shoes.

I love to jump in puddles-

running with a leap!

And landing “splosh!”with two feet flat

in the messy, mucky deep.

I love to jump in puddles-

it always makes me laugh!

We slip and slide on wet slick paths

‘til we fall upon the grass.

I love to jump in puddles-

squeals dancing in the air;

wind whipping past as currents move

and tango with my hair.

I love to jump in puddles-

You know why this is true?

‘cos when it rains, I catch your hand

and you come jumping too!