Mrs Macquarie's Chair

Good morning everyone,

Laid out before me is the reason I love where I live. I'm sitting on the edge of the Botanic gardens a spot known to us Sydney sliders as Mrs Macquarie's chair.

What do I see? Everything really boats, planes and the water with the lift shining off it like crystal. Then to my right are giant metal cranes that make me marvel at how much we have conquered nature in some sense that's what they represent to me. To my left the world renowned arch of the Harbour bridge and white sails of the Opera house.

This isn't a secret spot. It's just a favorite I'm discovering as more and more minds and eyes gaze and linger in the same sight before me. It's a beautiful morning and it's great to share such an amazing sight with so many other people this morning.

Hopefully this poem will give you some idea of what it feels like to sit here in y denim jeans on the cold grass with the cool salty breeze blowing over my skin.


Mrs Maquarie's Chair

Crystal
Like thin sky blue fingers
Tumbling over and under
Breathing on rock shores.

The tangle of metal and grass
The loll of bodies on hillsides
Jackets discarded
Eyes open half closed

Chairs and portals into
Worlds so near to touch
To waters and foam
Helicopters, ferries and water.
Salt.

Leaves and wind
Upraised hairs on elephant skin
Folk of all sorts and all colours
Dull made pink in the morning light
Bright made pure in the greeness of ground

White stone sails
An arch unmistakable
More eyes metal eyes
Clasping eyes
The stains of eyes embalmed in albums.
Perspectives visions
Trapping time, trapping nature and stealing a moment
A glimpse a blink

Sun mingles here it rests
Like smooth concrete
Water intermingles with it
And lays out a golden carpet
Over this vast Harbour

The sounds of eyes
"Look at this look at that!"
Feet slow to keep pace
Thoughts amble
There are few words here
The sounds are of beasts
Of flies licking salt and blood off skin
Birds diving and yowling
Or soaring near silent, whipping their wings

But also there are other sounds
The giant ferries churning through the water
And for their size struggling to cut a path through water
Propellers chop meanwhile high in the sky above sounding like a roar
As if maybe the metal is crying out confused as to how it got so high
From its home in the earth

do you see that
Crystal ?
Do you see it shimmering and
Lapping right at our feet?