crossing the lake..
sailing through a web soaked sky,
floating spiderlings riding on silk threads.
landing on a pebbled shore,
twisted with sun baked wood.
prickly tea tree paths,
ushering to a sandy refuge.
skipping over jumping ants,
while the red finns swish.
On the tuesday after the easter weekend we took the boat to Lake Bellfield and glided to the other side. There were trillions of spider webs dripping from the sky coating everything.
We were alone on the other side and it was one of those still warm days were sounds hang in the air with a crispness and clearness. Everything had that crystal sparkle to it that tells you "this is the life".