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
http://joycelansky.blogspot.com/2013/06/wordless-wednesday-teachers-pay-teachers.html
emma and buster
Rhonda @Laugh-Quotes.com
http://mysweetandsourlife.com/
My first attempt at Wordless Wednesday is here:
http://iousex.blogspot.com/2013/06/wordless-wednesday.html
Caite, cheers!
PC, hoorah!
Sukhmandir, in this spot there at least a few thousand. Around the other side of the rocks (which were less protected from waves), there were tens of thousands!
Rhonda, they look like purple blobs of jelly when not feeding.
Joyce, cheers!
Sandy, they are probably the most common around these parts. They love the cold!
Thenewandimprovedamber, thank you.
Cathi, there is indeed!