Driving through Moss Vale, late
Two streets up from here
my father is asleep, I hope.
But I know he is not.
He waits for daylight
to give him the rest
of being up and doing.
My mother, his wife, his only girl
he has nursed and has buried.
I shall not call in at this hour,
I do not want to disturb him.
And so escape to the comfort
of a darkened countryside,
hoping that with distance,
the softening moonlight,
I find a reason
other than a son could not
face his father in that empty house.
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