Astrid McCormick

Albatross

The ebb and flow,
the moon, the land,
the ocean and sand.

The weight of my wings,
unbearable on land,
flapping in depressed air.

Storm and turbulence —
join the mountains,
and see others in the air.

The upwind keeps us safe,
rows of tree tops, the horizon—
windward, my space, my home.


Hit

Stony
clay ground, trees;
the sun unwinds.

Steel
conceals the guests.

Surely,
surely the situation is fair.

Burning
sun now outlines the scene —
when the blast hits my chest.

All seems serene —
it is Christmas.

My face — in the shade.
Adapting, feeling my way,
finding my place.

Stiffness
among the guests.

Hollow-eyed,
sharing —
no food,
speaking —
no words.

Worn out:
the marrying maiden.


Garlic — The Cycle

Joy reflects in my velvet brown eyes,
when the waning moon asks my sensitive hands
to gather, clean and store this season’s promising yield.

Unwillingly, charcoal-black soil sets the bulbs free,
skins flake, leaves break and dirt crumbs
cling to porcelain-white roots.

I take deep to heart next season’s call,
of Gaia’s womb intertwined,
and surrender the cloves to their fertile ground.


About the Author

Astrid McCormick was born in 1954 in Germany and developed a strong affinity with English literature early in life. In 1976, she was awarded an MA in English and Social Sciences and worked as a senior teacher. Having lived on Vanuatu in the South Pacific, since 1996 she has called Australia home. McCormick currently studies with the Oxford School of Poetry having completed an MA in Cross-Disciplinary Art and Design.

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