I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...
Comments
Henry is debonair as usual, the photograph is achingly beautiful.
By the way, i joined a new job yesterday and was feeling a little out of place without the old colleagues.
Then I had in front of me the computer and an Internet connection. So the first site that i opened was your blog. After a few minutes spent on the delightfully soft photograph (of yesterday morning) i felt like nice and back in business. The familiarity generated through the visits to your blog is becoming more profound now, thanks to your witty and thought-provoking write-ups as well as the snapshots of dashing Henry.
Take care and god bless....
Dan, he was an interesting character, that’s for sure!
Priyanka, we’re thinking of taking Henry on tour. India is being mooted as we speak.
Yamini, humbling words. It can be a tough ask getting used to new surroundings. I shall be getting some more photos of the littlies on the weekend, and will be sure to post a heap here just for you!
Jim, I’m banking my retirement on it!
Boise Diva, one does try. (Or, as my wife tells me, one is very trying!)
April, my Henry is a performer 24 hours a day.