Billy lived out on the windswept island, all rocky and green and exposed to the world out there where ships rarely passed by along with the humpback whales and seals. There were holes and caves where wandering cattle went to disappear like lost souls at sea and the trees were mostly gone to fuel winter fires. So Billy lived out on the windswept island with his brothers and sisters and dad, all huddled together and alone but for the other two families. As the oldest of five, Billie worked hard baking the bread and sowing the seeds while their dad helped keep the lighthouse burning through day and night, fog and mist. Though the weekends never really came at all to mark the passing of tireless days, each dusk Billie would take a break and walk the fenceline set in from the cliffs. He loved to watch the setting sun and feel the last night drain away, but most of all he hoped to catch a glimpse of Rosa. Rosa, with her strange sweet laugh, she’d be out working in the garden sometimes amongst the tulips and orchids and carrots and spuds all in rows. She’d look up and say hello and Billie would feel warm and queasy, those waves crashing inside. Lighthouse light our way through mist and haze, clouding all we see through distant days. Let us have this time in this place to be as one, as this. Then one time as Billie walked by, following the fenceline in the deepening dusk, he saw Rosa there before him working away in the solitary garden. He asked her how it was coming along, and she said, “fine”, and as they spoke he felt a little short of breath. He was about to make an excuse to Rosa and hurry on home when he heard himself say, “would you like to go on a date?”. She said she’d love to, through her windy smile, and he felt all weak at the knees, she said let’s meet at 10 tonight by the old stables. Well Billie’s dad was at the lighthouse that night as he waited amongst the sea birds, then he saw the moonlight catch her hair waving in the wind and there they were. They walked out beyond the fenecline and sat there by the cliffs, while far below the wind blew the water white and black. They drew closer timidly then finally they kissed, wind and ocean whirling as they took each other in. Lighthouse light our way through mist and haze, clouding all we see through distant days. Let us have this time in this place to be as one, as this.

I wake and gather where I am no hurry it seems, a day that is all mine. First rays peer through the panes a whispering glow slanting shadows on the walls. These scenes of abstract puppetry dancing figures that sway ever so lazily. And it’s this opportunity to be and just be in this moment of this day that leaves me with the hopeful impression that I might find a way to ease the flow. And in my mind there’s the slightest cloud. I hope that I’ll come to see summer’s winter in a far off foreign bay. The days might slip by quietly with almost no sun at all but there you would be. Nestled in a pile of favourite pastries while threading silent streets made so familiar. And in your mind, the slightest cloud. This whirlwind of thought slows down and I begin To take it as it comes, at least to some degree. And in my mind there’s the slightest cloud. I’m asking now where do I begin to try to explain the piece that’s missing.

It was in the days of the drought when the ground was hard and the dams were drying up. The creek bed had long turned to puddles and wallabies could be seen looking for a patch of grass to graze on. Just the summer before the water tanker had come clanging down the driveway to fill the tanks just in case they ran out. Though as it turned out, it would have been fine as long as they’d made it through to autumn. For autumn came round and the skies opened up, black clouds swelled and burst all over the land filling the valleys and the streams. A welcome relief cautiously accepted. And it rained, how it rained. Well the gutters all overflowed out onto the streets washing away unpaved roads and flooding under bridges, and kids could be seen with lifesaver-coloured boogie boards looking for a drain to wash them away. The creek was back with a vengeance, this time claimed the whole valley, gushing and swirling in a mess of branches and debris that stretched as far as we could see. And it rained, how it rained. And it rained, how it poured down rain washed dust away made us whole again in the stormy days and nights. And it rained, filled my cup and washed the fumes away soaking into the concrete and soil made us pure again.

I wake to wind through the gum trees and kick off the sheets outside it is dry and the ground burns my feet I wet down the house and rake up the leaves into a great pile for a winter fire then down to the shed and pick up a book in front of a fan that sweeps cross the room and rustles the pages, I sink in the chair and see through the window a column of smoke. The flames over the valley engulf all the trees, the hills all a red glow and surging with smoke my eyes start to water as I run to the house and reach for the phone. Then the sky goes black and the embers rain down all around and I’m running blind, the smoke mask held over my face. Your number dials, but your voice is nowhere to be found and I’m left behind to die all alone in this place. I run through smoke with the buckets, the sprinklers are out, I watch through the windows as the flames hit the trees golden and roaring, crashing like waves the shed and the chook house explode into flames the sound of a gunshot and the car is ablaze I’m soaking with sweat and my head starts to throb the glass it is melting. Then the rafter falls, crashing down with a deafening sound through the thick, black smoke, my arms held all over my face. You’ve gone away, a memory’s all to be found and I don’t want to die all alone in this place.

I wind my way up around the hill, it’s steeper than it looked from down below. The whisper of maize and sorghum on the wind, rustling in the fields. It’s the clearest sky I’ve ever seen, the colour it reminds me of your eyes in days gone by and the shadows of the mountains all around are long, I feel the night begin to settle in. From the top of the hill it’s mostly still and the last of the sunlight still peaks above the tallest parts of the mountains, all huddled around on every side And it’s quiet here, only the bells on the goats and the cows and the laughter of kids playing on the dusty road like anywhere else, and no one would know if you or I were ever here. Here the people call out from far away to friends hidden in the fields, go back and forth and they all wear blankets, the king’s attire I’m told, and woven hats for crowns. And yesterday I cam across some gum trees on the side of a mountain, untroubled friends, well I took some leaves and crushed them in my hand and smiled at the eucalyptus scent.

The months rolled by on the windswept island, marked by the storms and the swelling of the sea, and the young lovers’ love grew deeper and deeper, spreading out across the rocky green place. They’d make plans sometimes, out there with the ocean and the wind, they’d make plans to get married one day and take over the place. They could plant the veggies and watch them grow, maybe even start a family of their own, and always they’d keep the lighthouse going through day and night, fog and mist. Then one day a pigeon landed in the aviary, carrying with it a message. The letter was short and it read that Rosa’s family was to be moved to another lighthouse. They’d done their time on that lonely island and were to be moved to a bustling port, somewhere far from the cliffs and rocks below. Rosa refused to leave at first - she swore she’d stay behind with Billie on the windswept island where all the trees were gone to fuel winter fires - but through her tears and defiant talk she knew she had to go and so she left in the cable car down the steep slope of the cliffs. Billie watching as she disappeared from view then back in again as she boarded the boat, then disappearing once more around the rocks in the sea and going back alone, dragging his feet to the spot where they’d sat once and carved in the rocks: “Billie and Rosa forever and ever”, amongst passing humpback whales and seals, “Billie and Rosa forever and ever”, carved in grey-white and fading from view each day out on that windswept island all rocky and green and exposed to the world.

Turn out all the stars, put out every one. Pack up the cratered moon and dismantle the sun. Cause day by day, I watch this slip away. So stop all the clocks, while we’re still here. Pour out the ocean into outer space. Gather all the ground and sweep up the clouds. Cause day by day, I watch this slip away. So stop all the clocks, while we’re still here.

The steam on the glass The hiss of the pot The stain on the chair The empty spot The smudge on the couch The scratch on the door The dust on the frame The faded floor Remind me That you were here The glare in the street The pool on the ground The leaves on the wind The rustling sound The crack in the path The hum in the air The birds on the wire The distant stare Remind me In the afterglow Remind me In the afterglow