This is for d’Verse’s Haibun Monday: The present moment. I got into the office, opened my email, my calendar, my magic pudding TO DO list, and then… though I knew I oughtn’t… checked the Monday dVerse prompt.
H_ opens the gate at the top of the driveway, swinging on it the last 45 degrees, though I always tell her not to. She gets back in and we barrel on down the hill. A flock of cockatoos, white against a blue sky, swoops across the road in front of me to land in a paddock among the ‘roos. “Got a ‘roo loose in the top paddock” I say, but H_ doesn’t get the joke, yet.
We lurch and bounce over potholes and gullies, until dirt gives way to gravel, gives way to bitumen and we admire the autumn colours as we trundle into the village – claret ash, golden ash, scarlet pin oak, Chinese pistachio and liquidambar… even the names speak of flames, of flaring vivid transience, of an excitability beyond tulips.
A quick hug, an “I love you, have a good day” and H_ is running for the school gate and I am heading for the highway, the parkway, past the airport where a jet roars overhead, white as a cockatoo in the sun, packed with pollies heading for Sydney. Traffic lights, merging lanes, security gate, carpark, swipe card entry so my presence is known, my whereabouts tracked. Down corridors where crimsons have been safely ritalined into placid rose, all verdant greens safely, sagely, Valium-dulled (although I think the ceiling is giving me separation anxiety).
Don’t swing on the gate,
it could come unhinged – we don’t
want ‘roos loose in here.
We covered our arses with paperwork
but we got a bit carried away,
what with HR, Disclosure and Ethics
there’re new forms to fill in each day! Continue reading
Thanks to the Mouse for the title to this one. And to no specific student or colleague for the rest.
I’m righting the writing,
un-verbing the nouns,
untangling the syntax
so meaning is found. Continue reading
Never forget this:
everything is a test –
every word, every look,
each recorded, each graded
against a secret rubric.
Never forget this,
so that when judgement is made
you will not be surprised
you will not be dismayed
to be found wanting.
Back on the B-ark yesterday, for strategic planning! So the dVerse prompt: “put your words on spin cycle” felt very apt when I read it this morning.
I hate tidying, sweeping, mopping the floor,
and washing dishes even more,
and there are few things I wouldn’t rather be
doing, than a load of laundry –
but sitting here and taking notes
in this bloody meeting, gets some votes.
There’s no action-items, no decisions made,
my patience is becoming increasingly frayed… Continue reading
We’ll get us a success coach
to train up our success
he’ll pump us up with slogans
until we are the bestest.
He’ll elevate our excellence
right up to the sky!
And as the gas comes whooshing out
our excellence will fly! Continue reading
Filed under musings, poem
This latest “vision statement”
is filling me with anguish –
it’s a crime against coherence,
an assault upon the language: Continue reading
It’s date-night for
the office singles –
but be wary how
your work-life mingles.
It’s fine to let
but tongues will wag
at who takes who home.
So smile and flirt
but do be wary,
you’re being watched
secretary executive assistant.
Covid has blurred the lines between work and home, and while in some ways that’s bad (I feel like there are no bounds to office hours and no place that is truly away from work), in other ways it’s nice. There’s a lot more socialising amongst colleagues – in fact there’s even now a “singles club”…! (The EA told me.)
does have some good
for how else could
I sleep ‘til eight,
have breakfast late
and be on time! Continue reading
This is for dVerse’s Thursday Meet the Bar prompt “Setting“. I read the prompt when I got into the office this morning (time zone difference!), let it ferment throughout the working day, and this is what bubbled up…
Oh and I should acknowledge that I lifted the phrase “rigor mortis of routine” from the Human Anvil’s ‘encore encore‘. It stuck in my mind when I read it, and has been sleeping there, waking whenever I unlock my office door.
The relentless hum of air-conditioning,
which neither cools nor moves the air,
is punctuated by the whine and click of a photocopier,
as voices, muted to an unintelligible muttering
penetrate the two-tone sage-green wall, Continue reading
Filed under musings, poem