How a tree waits

Leaves don’t fall. Not in any straightforward sense. You really get a sense of this if you watch widely, unfocus that point in the centre of your looking and gaze from the sides of your eyes. Delight your peripheral vision. Wait for the great exhalation to pass over an…

An Essay on Lent

I. It’s the time of year when we awake from the drowsy hedonism of summer and jump to our feet, only to glimpse our plans and projects getting away from us. The year is getting into swing. There is a rhythm, like a Dave Brubeck time signature, but you…

Coffee and Freedom

Final Step Cafe, Melbourne. Murphy Street, Toorak. Double Ristretto. I only risk the double rist when great rewards are offered. Probably the best I’ve ever had – the real deal. It refused to be relegated to the background, to quietly shuffle to the corner of my consciousness behind the smells,…

The Bells

We used to live in a little cubical building, nave’s length from a bell tower. An aisle’s length, not quite, but every friday night it was a measured space, although not by paces; in concussions. From 6pm to 8pm the Ringers would gather – I imagine from curious little…

All who have departed —William Saumarez Smith

> THE PREACHER’S PRAYER LORD, when my heart is slow to feel, And when my lips are slow to speak, And yet my heart still Thee doth seek, And yet my lips would Thee reveal; Then send Thy gracious Spirit, Lord, That He may my dull heart inspire, And touch…