Clouds in the valley...

  Spring arrives, And in a single blink - The meadowy Farm gets washed - In a sea of clovers Dancing in white and blushing pink   The carpet of flowers Reminds of vales I have never been, They call me, but I have to wait The weeds in the meadow For now are all, that I will have seen   They are no brahma kamal , But the clovers bring peace, A bridge to the past that never was, And link to the future – Of alpine dreams that never cease   It is my pensive place – A spark of the past that ebbs and flows; Left behind a Valley Now faraway, this meadow large Is all that I could have happily chose   Do I then love this green For it brings back to us the mountains' lore? The clovers sway in the windy day, You, green grass and indigo skies What need there is, to ask for more? Inspired by walks to the historic Farm in Sydney, remnant of the earliest farms established in a fledgling colony and the birthplace of Austr...

  I see red blooms in the morning mist, In Illawarra’s shaded slope, This fine cold, the mizzled skies And the flowers grow with hope   Denizens of the highland homes, The hills are where they thrive, But not just they, my memories too In the escarpment comes alive   For I have seen them in a chapter past, In the Himalayan whites of snow, In the hills of Shingba, Varsey where They shine in their own alpenglow   And spring becomes a palette mix, Bubbling with new-born streams, Untamed yaks in sanctuaries Awash with rhododendron dreams     Sleet drapes the reds and pinks Yet, a warbler flits with joy A fire-tailed sunbird seeks some wine Awestruck stands a vagrant boy   Awestruck still today am I, Just as it was all yesterday, That my dormant dreams have woken up In these emerald hills of faraway   To remind as if that time has passed I hear a kookaburra’s laughing sound Yet in the peta...