By the Lake
A sunless day and coolish. No weather
for a picnic. We have parked by the lake
and are eating our sandwiches in the car.
It’s one of those melancholy days when lake
and sky are the same grey; even the trees,
paperbarks mostly, offer only variations of tone.
The whole scene looks as though it’s composed
of fabrics: silk, faintly wrinkled, for the great
stretch of water, dark stitching for distant
oyster leases, with here and there embroidery
of black swans, while the folded, bush-clad hills
present a sombre tangle of knitting wool.
The cloudy sky is a vast cashmere shawl
—but here the fantasy begins to falter,
for looking at the big picture, we’ve failed
to notice modest runabouts the fishermen
have moored not far off-shore, and suddenly
we realise they are crammed (appliquéd?)
with pelicans, four or five to a boat,
taking their ease, silent, companionable,
as if they’re waiting for latecomers before
setting out on their party of pleasure.
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