Hanoi

spatters of night rain

on Tue Tinh Street

a woman walks her bicycle

loaded with plastic bags

I watch her patiently sort

through rubbish

turn away from the streetlight

to pull out my money

find a suitable note

not too big

turn around

with inner generous smile

the woman and her bicycle

have dissolved into the dark rain

Long Reef in winter

You hear the roar half a mile away.

Giant rollers unfurl white banners on the reef. 

Closer in, fish-scale light on curving shimmers.

Ears back into the wind

Jasper does a mad run on the clifftop,

dream material for a twitching afternoon nap.

Two whales, mother and calf, loll in the swell.

Now a southerly churns the water sprites,

the horizon jagged with distant storms.

No visa

The strong young man

who trained Olympic athletes

now watches daytime TV

in a Sydney suburb.

Refusing to fight for a dictator,

he vaulted a virtual queue somewhere,

was deemed unworthy

of our way of life

and now lives in a no-mans-land

of shadows and uncertainty.

Some days you may see him

feeding ducks in the park

like an old man.

Olympic aspirations

I want to kayak up your river,

shoot your raging rapids,

dive below your surface,

swim across your channel

and surf your every wave.

I want to climb your every mountain,

rove along your tracks,

jump over your chasms,

lope beyond your plains

and explore your hidden valleys.

I want to swing on your vines,

ski your slopes forever,

map your every moon,

race your fastest pulse,

cycle all your circuits,

lift your biggest barbells

and push my luck too far.