James Thomson: ‘pibroch on a windy night’
pibroch on a windy night
the wind that whispers like a whistle
through eaves and leaves outside my window
soft as a rose, rugged as a thistle
begins to sing and sigh a world lovingly air-
lifting me up and nestling me down
here and there and everywhere
sound as it does like the clashing cymbals
in a marching band
the fingers of the wind are quick and nimble as
ears tuning into
the broadcast on airwaves up and down the street
unlocking the pain of a twisted sinew
washing back against the darkness like a pibroch
repeating the hours like a broken clock
James Thomson
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins