All you knit is love | Geraldine Barlow


it is winter here, the branches of the trees are bare the sky is ever so high, above
there is space for a procession
amidst the rockery, masked

in parka and gumboots
the prickly pear, weeds and dry old stones mumbling to each other, disgruntled and absurd uneasy, to be drawn into this play of still hilarity


we see each other differently
four sketchbooks, notebooks
a family portrait, the vast and the interior are interwoven, made everyday anew by the tall falling, at the edge
of our endeavour to see
something uniquely of the self, and yet connected naturally, to those close


the edge-skin of the city, where park
quarry, hill, green, and picnic grounds
rim, the crisp sunday play
a conversation in a bowl of unknown origin
a moment under the spare shade of a wire-frame tree a heart-quickening scramble to the high air

near and far, so close, induce
vertigo, exhilaration, an ache for the unknown


snow cover over the rocky hide of the hills, with misty haze lit white, a far brightness in the sky to match the unlikely load
of gravel underfoot, in preparation

for a path as yet uncut, high over an unseen valley road and rocks and snow in conversation
a material play of fragment, bond, cool hardness and loose moraine fall


cliffs and escarpment ridges flow hard and high above the river, which keeps its secrets more within beneath green grey waters
ever-passing and ever-present, abiding
as the bridge stones are formed into pillars
and arches, overstepping
the quiet flowing waters for year after year
until they too fall, and tumble in the cool green


of stone and lime once liquid, drip almost vertical frozen, 90 degrees from the expected plane moss, lichen and shadows cluster
hold me on your shoulders

and we can play at capturing the moment freezing the liquid fall and flow
of movement, time and bodies in space in the far reaches of the familiar

and stars
and moss
and spilling pearls, threaded leaves
pale plaster growth in the hallway
the light upon your hair
and favourite feasts of dusk clouded grapes
and sharp tangy cheese, salty olives
keep me warm in spun stiches of coral, lilac and magenta close knit, travelling together

Geraldine Barlow, 2012