In the new light of sunrise, I cycled leisurely in Townsville’s Ross River Parkway, the sky above me nearly clear, only wisps of white-grey cloud marring its blue expanse. A light breeze rustled...
This morning, while I walked in Townsville’s Bicentennial Park, the sun rose above city and Ross River as an eye-searing ball of molten gold. Before noon, I rushed outdoors to snatch laundry off...
In the dim light of 5:10 a.m., a golfer hit practice balls on the Townsville Golf Club, his face so screened by the receeding darkness that I was unable to ascertain if he was young or old. Beneath th...
I stole quietly into Townsville’s tropical dawn, the songs of a brush cuckoo and olive-backed oriole drawing me forth, the two vocalizations so different yet now so familiar – the brush cuckoo...