I’m three days into my voluntary exile

before I write a poem about this place.

 

I imagine every poet who has come here

before me, exercising the same privilege.

 

Today, I cast my net again, unfettered by

the austerity of table, chair and window

 

as thoughts flutter like wagtails – swept

by coastal winds from my dark corners.

 

All day, vessels glide into the wide mouth 

of the estuary; feeding this great port city

 

as further out, whales breach in the Pacific

like miracles. I work on, in containment

 

with a patchwork of artists: scratching, 

scribbling and tapping in adjacent rooms.

 

This is of course, how each of us pray: 

in practice defined by focus and faith,

 

the mechanics of my posture honouring

this – inside our shared immersion,

 

the stamp of the keys, a gentle music; 

the winter of my telling,

rushing,

rushing.

 

Note: The Nobbys-Whibayganba Headland houses the historic lighthouse and cottages which are offered to artists for residencies throughout the year through Lighthouse Arts.