Member Poem

Goodness, I nearly lost my balance in the spiral seashells and broken sea stone chipping matrix.
“Be careful, Hunter.
A dramatic otherworldly start to our long cherished goal of novel writing?”
Doing it as we take our usual Sunday route.”
Hazel, partner of thirty years laughed cordially in that gentle teasing manner.
She was a lecturer in advanced computer technology on recess.
I’m a high level maths and maths physics teacher.
“Let us concentrate on that work.
The one with the characters we meet every Sunday when we jog together.”
Today was as good a day as any.
“Hazel, it will be great fun taking notes.
This stop and stare couple if you will.
Both of us have good memories which is a plus.”
My notebook felt slippery as I shuffled it in an awkward inner pocket.
A damp but warm day with periodic sunshine and  that whooshing gust at our backs was now in full swing.
“We’ll record car drones, the snap of brittle branches, and folk that chatter in markets.
Most likely as we wend  our way round town.
In spurts, let’s say.”
Hazel’s ethereal persona at play.
“May noises from nature and the human world be those faceless characters.”
Hunter did comment as we breathe heavily whilst continuing to run.
“It will be unorthodox and add mystique to boot.”
We kept up this magic dialogue as we cut across a damp moisture- laden path beside the nearest granite stone shelter.
Children’s swings and slides in the local fun park an attraction no doubt.
All those kids began to wave at us.
Pausing intermittently was an integral part of a hazy morning trot.
“Oh Hunter, it’s your birthday tomorrow.
You’ll never guess what surprise I have in store.”
Hazel, lover of the gentle hint.
“Sounds mysterious. Looking forward to it.”
Hunter said archly.
Hazel and I had this energy burst against the backdrop of a threatening weather front that could scowl any minute.
We were engulfed by our environment partly in fear, partly for inspiration.
Deep gulps of air with great urgency would force an eager nose rub and cheek peck.
“Ahh, that feels good.  Bet you feel the same.”
Hazel romantically.
A car passes as we continue.
The driver waves in this bizarre manner.
An unknown figure that somehow senses our denouement.
There had been downpours the night before and occasional pools to avoid.
“Wonderful scenery here.  Look at those  gravity defying droops  and spectral tints  from exotic
border plants.”
Hazel observes.
“Yes, colourful foundation for that piece done on the run so to speak.”
Hunter grins at his potent words.
There was ample food for thought in this jogger’s path.
The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered in grass tufts that flicker, that cavort about at a south-east breeze’s whim.
Haywire blackcap raspberry brambles whose overlap tentacles spread across every mound or patch.
Star-shaped brown leaves veiled cover for those sharp spines that protrude.
Us madagascan parrots continue our early dash as the clouds overhead weave an enigmatic contour in azure blue skies.
Curiously enough this self-same enchanting cloud miscellany fiddles and skirts over rusty rooftops and mountain peaks that beguile the human eye.
“Amazing isn’t it at this juncture in our lives?
A treasure trove, scenic amethyst  penchant for metaphor.”
Hunter to Hazel as a cue to elemental plot or seamless banter.

“Oh, a chorus from Nirvana's opulent far reaches.
Glorious cacophony, revelation from congo bay owl, singing dark-eyed junco, baltimore oriole, northern mockingbird to name but a few.”
Hazel animatedly.
“Soundscapes beyond our imaginations ignited by summer saline rushes.
Bird assembly perch like elfs on a rainbow eucalyptus.”
Hunter and Hazel now in awe at creatures who mesmerize at random.
“Don’t worry, I have my smart phone switched  on.
I’ll capture most of it.”
Hazel now speaking.
It was not the only alluring feature on this mysterious though regular odyssey for us.
Between notes and new recordings the whiff of Bombay mix recipes from an nearby market began to take hold.
“Pumpkin seed baps on spits, reek of sesame  oil, aromatic seasoning that wafts everywhere.
We could use some.”
Hazel wryly whilst we attempt to dodge muddy  waters from last night’s shower.
“Oh your gift. 
I had a chat last Friday with this publisher my best friend recommended.
Our story outline went down well.
They’ll commit that potential script to memory.
And would like to have exploratory talks tomorrow afternoon.”
Hunter was thunderstruck.
“You never really told me.”
Our boundless amusement interrupted now  by a car that drove through one of the pools splashing us,
the hologram notepad lines, Hazel’s cell-phone which fell to the ground.
Unfortunately the screen was now beyond use.
“Dear me.  We’ll have to start from scratch.
An upgrade was due on my phone anyway.”
Hazel the philosophical one.
Within seconds the driver reversed to offer his apologies.
“Didn’t I  see you all before? I’m so sorry.
I have to rush home to finish this report.  Deadline Monday.
Sincerely hope I didn’t wet or destroy anything valuable.”
He said contritely.
“Nothing important.  Not in the long run!”
Hazel sighs.
“Guess we’ll have to jog our memories.”
Hunter whispers in an ironic voice.