From a Bourke Street Window in Melbourne

I often glance out the window in the foyer of our 13th Floor offices.
Its an interesting view of city traffic streaming in from the freeway emerging from the Westgate Bridge, to the docklands development and Spencer Street Station with its giant roof depicting the sales of a boat, to far off hazy views of Port Phillip Bay dotted with container vessels, add to a pulsating kaleidoscope of city skyline refecting endless activity.

Anthony Toomey from the property insurance area of QBE is a talented photographer and he kindly took these recent pictures from the window in the foyer just before you enter the 13th Floor.
Click on the images to see an enlarged version.
Notice the reflections from the giant roof of the Spencer Stret Rialway Station in the 2nd photo.

My poem is about the drive home from Bourke Street to the quiet Eltham suburb in the North East of Melbourne, a suburb moulded in a softer landscape of rolling hills and valley with a meandering lazy Yarra River.

Burke Street Melbourne to Eltham

Burke Street window, reflect city light- rays
City heart races in many strange ways
Time for journey , lets be off and away
Sufficient is the work for today

Rush to lifts, down 13 floors,
Rush to carpark just up 2 more
Rush to car, seatbelts now in place
Zoom out of car park, cities to face

Wait for roller door, sson out in the lane
Wait for walkers and for light change
Wait for tram, then wait for big buss
Wait for bicycle, don’t make any fuss

A city pulsating, its lights and clatter
A city so busy, for peak hour traffic
A city of sirens , sound sirens of panic
A city of beauty, congested with traffic

Time for traffic snarl, my tempers to hide
Time for good news to banish the blues
Time for sweet music, calm my mind
Time to remind my mind to be kind

I drive throught a city, lights all ablaze
Whine of the engine, din and faint haze
I make a fast move, away from the pack
Away from congestion, there's no turning back

A city pulsating, lights and it's clatter
A city so busy, rush hour traffic
A city that sonds its sirens of panic
a city of beauty congested in traffic

At last I am home, it's quiet at last
Drive in the driveway, work now past
Hello to wife, off to my yearning
Off to writing, thoughts now returning

A city pulsating, light and it's clatter
But now in my nest, my mind is at rest
Its light energy, a reflection for me
Its simply the beast, for my poetry