The Scrivener: Mooring Posts
…In the morning, the reflections of the mooring posts are ruffled by the slight breeze on the water. In the evening, they are clear and mirror-like on the calm surface. In winter, they stand alone. In summer, they hold boats firmly against the drift of the current. All through the year, the visiting birds alight on them, either to watch the rest of the world, or to find a vantage point for eating, or simply to rest for a while…
Brian Barratt has the enviable gift of being able, with mere words, to allow you to see that natural wonders that he sees.
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A lone pelican glides noiselessly across the still water, swooping now and then to extract an unsuspecting fish from the depths. In the distant haze, over the lake, the smoke blue silhouette of the mountains rises behind the outline of the town. Just over there, three mooring posts emerge defiantly from the water, their reflections clear and unruffled. On the other side, just over there to the right, an old wooden jetty probes its way deep into the water.
The posts and the jetty are visited from time to time, while I watch, by a seagull or a cormorant.
A butcher-bird, large and neatly grey and black, hops clumsily from branch to branch in the resplendent eucalyptus tree just in front of the house. Halfway down to the lake. It mimics the raucous squawk of the three wattle-birds busily taking nectar from the blooms of a smaller tree by the fence.
The small, instinctive cat, Arthur, prowls menacingly along the flower-bed, by the fence, also concentrating on the wattle-birds. He takes a kittenish leap, all legs and tail, onto the trunk, and pauses to watch their reaction. Unconcerned, they contine with their meal.
There’s a smelly little corpse on the door-mat. A baby wattle-bird. Possibly killed by the butcher-bird and transported to the house by Arthur. He regards life as a playtime, chasing birds, cuddling up to humans, and then sleeping to collect enough energy for the next romp. Arthur is motionless only when asleep. All other times, his questioning blue eyes search for affection and prey. Beautiful pussy-cat. Nasty bird-eating beast.
In the morning, the reflections of the mooring posts are ruffled by the slight breeze on the water. In the evening, they are clear and mirror-like on the calm surface. In winter, they stand alone. In summer, they hold boats firmly against the drift of the current. All through the year, the visiting birds alight on them, either to watch the rest of the world, or to find a vantage point for eating, or simply to rest for a while.
I wonder if I am as useful as those mooring posts?
© Copyright 2007 Brian Barratt
