Visiting Jing’an Temple
West Nanjing Road, Shanghai

A Buddhist temple jade and golden
spills between shadow and light.
Those who pray unaware of meanderings
their eyes down…………..their hearts
know the great Buddha above.

Incense perfumes morning air.
A ginkgo tree translucent in half light
its crest the colour of aureate dreams,
lower shelf shadows courtyard floor.

We follow as pilgrims ……………hear
the ringing of bells, drums beat our heart
welcome lunch in the monk’s dining room
a round table…………………….. seamless
in the circle of humanity

We scoop noodles and mushrooms
fresh from the earth
dipped walnuts in sesame
grains from the garden.

Our gifts……….a red vase filled
with top shelf black tea, some green
sign our names in calligraphy
on parchment ,,light brown.

My brush shakes as I dip black ink
write my name in best hand…. scroll
shadow and light of where I have been
where I have yet to go…………whisper
a moment of divine reflection.

As poets we revisit the past
contemplate the future, know ourselves
—a pendulum fixed in the central
sway of world peace.

Write they say………….pass another parchment
—make a note to transpose
onto the teapot life offers
……………………………….fixed for millennia.
I write hope………………the greatest gift of all.

**

The lady came to Perth by train                                    

The Sunday train, you say, the timetable
switched to Monday?

No one will say…
……………………no one you know, but it was
……………………the last train of the day

the evening train
the light behind trees
……………………………fading / falling
behind the lady’s shadow.

A friend, you say? A friend of hers?

Her skirt a billowing breeze…..it was

—a Sunday

……….the evening Mass just ended
…………………..the essence of the day
…………………………….fading / falling

—the pews, near full, empty now
a short walk to the station…

……………………to catch the evening train
the last prayer ended
…………the last verse ….a stanza now repeated.

Another train?……………Monday? No—
………………………………..Sunday, you say?

a Mass held for those who’d passed
November blessings, whatever day

those souls remembered.
Lost—

The lady came to Perth………….by train
the last train…………………………that day.

**

Mussel Pool fungi
i.m. Lew Whiteman (1903-1994)

Under casuarinas, fungi bloom
sunlit swamp glows its head.

Not a large mushroom but large
enough to focus the camera eye—

Mussel Pool named for succulent mussels
sweet garlic squeezed… /… spiced white wine

though the Pool no longer fills—
no deluge of flooding rain

the Wedding Bridge we walk over
peaks winter’s flow

paperbarks
deepen the lake’s reflection.

We ask for directions—
Horse Swamp—it’s where fungi grow!

Past the dog arena…..we pinpoint
posts of your directions

………dip a fence
shallow grasses spill unexpected rain.

Find you—fungi shelf past its prime—
Had you been here a week / even two days ago?

Feel the sunlight caress fallen logs
stepping stones across your chest

unwind the camera eye—
this image is not

what we expect —there are no fungi here
nothing but casuarinas and paperbarks.

When we leave………..I hear you say—there!
a frogmouth …….voicing its concerns.

**

a collection of things

It leaves me empty
this wanting…..knowing
you are not there

your face in my hands
I pull stitches from fingers
from thumbs

the old sewing machine
left in the shed
for your daughter

nowhere to hide
the bobbins
the trims

nowhere to hide
dresses pinned
but unmade

your tape measure
rolled under the bed
derailed head to foot

when you leave
wind uncurls your hair
pins your photograph …………………there

Pandora’s collection of things
belonging to you
but these are mine

my sister says
you can have them
…………on loan—

I wonder how far I will go
how loud I will howl
to make them my own.

 ————————————– 

Rose van Son is a West Australian poet and writer. She has been published in various journals and anthologies including Cordite, Rabbit, Westerly, ACU, Oystercatcher One, Grieve, and Glasgow Review of Books. Her collections include Cloak of Letters, Nature’s Warehouse (Birds in focus) and from the open doorway (haiku). She has judged the Tom Collins Poetry Award (2023), the Ros Spencer Poetry Prize (2018), the Poetry d’Amour Poetry Prize (2022) and the Haiku on Hay Haiku Prize (2024). Rose was Guest Poet at the Perth Poetry Festival (2015); the New Norcia Writers Festival (2018) and the York Writers’ Festival (2021). In 2022 she was Patron of the Perth Poetry Festival. In 2024 Rose was a Guest Poet at the Ninth Shanghai International Poetry Festival, held in Shanghai.