May was a busy busy month for me. Actually, every month is busy, but May was super busy, with some personal stuff, some day job stuff, and a looming deadline for my poetry resource for Australian teachers. And that all meant I missed several Poetry Fridays.
Another thing I missed was snorkelling. That busyness coupled with the cooler weather kept me out of the water most of the month. But this week some of the busyness has gone, and on Tuesday I bought a new, warmer, wetsuit – and so I managed a snorkel both Wednesday and Thursday.
On Thursday I did my first ever river snorkel. I’d heard of a site where seahorses are regularly spotted, and it is close to my city unit, so I headed there. I spotted only the one seahorse, but it was my first ever seahorse, so I was pleased. But what really took my breath away were the jellyfish.
I confess that I have always had a bit of hesitancy to get anywhere near jellyfish. Some sting, and all seem, from the surface, weird, sticky creatures. But snorkelling has given me the opportunity to really see these amazing creatures up close. I am fascinated by the way they move, and could watch them for hours.
Here’s a little footage so you can see what I mean.
Beautiful aren’t they?
And, of course, I came away wanting to write poetry about the beauty and the grace of these creatures. But nothing came out quite right. Yet. I will keep trying, but in the meantime, I found this beautiful poem, which says all the things I wanted to say.
A Jelly-Fish
by Marianne Moore
Visible, invisible,
A fluctuating charm,
An amber-colored amethyst
Inhabits it; your arm
Approaches, and
It opens and
It closes;
You have meant
To catch it,
And it shrivels;
You abandon
Your intent—
It opens, and it
Closes and you
Reach for it—
The blue
Surrounding it
Grows cloudy, and
It floats away
From you.
(Poem in the public domain)
Have a wonderful Friday, and, if you love poetry, head over to Margaret’s blog to see lots more poetry goodness.



A gift from my big sister, this is just the right kind of book to read in January, especially in a January in the midst of a global pandemic. As you might guess, the book is about happiness, but if you don’t know Bill Bailey’s other work, you might not know what to expect. Through a series of vignettes and reflections, Bailey gives his take on moments of happiness in his own life, exploring both what he feels happiness and contentment actually are, and how we might find them. It is funny, but it is also clever, and, more than once, I found myself heading off to follow up on research he mentions.


Is a stair