Skiing in the Main Range
In those days you could hire a “cat”
and like a yellow tank it plunged
up and down the slopes and out
into the Main Range. We rocked around
inside, sliding down the narrow seats,
facing each other in our snow disguise.
Laughing, nervous, we clambered out
at the stopping place and sank
into fresh snow, struggling
to put on skis. Oh that day! Mountains
and meadows gleaming in the sun,
shadows as blue as the sky.
We had the ranges to ourselves
and the long run down Mount Townsend
lay before us. One by one we pushed off
and the swish of our skis was the only sound
as our trails turned the slopes
into a great expansive drawing.
Next morning I woke at dawn.
from a dream of an endless schuss
down Himalayan mountains.
Sometimes I was airborne,
flew lightly over crag and valley,
landed in a cloud of powder …
The lodge was buried in sleep.
Fresh snow had fallen in the night.
From my bunk the window framed
a piece of rosy sky, snowy ground
flushed pink, and gliding from the gums,
a red fox seeking food.
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