October 31, 2025 — “Waiting” by Kathylynne Somerville
On the verandah of his Queenslander, he slumps under corrugated iron slats in a fold out chair.
His slim torso a bending a bow into canvas with Dad painted on the back in block letters.
The portable Panasonic radio chats BBC and forewarns fires, the humidity hikes in sweltering
degrees, perspiration droplets bud his forehead underneath the felt brim of his Akubra hat. Over
the balustrade, a family of bottle trees are militant in towering unity against waves of heat.
Galahas sweep pink and grey splotches across the sky, shadowing timber peaks, winging shapes
over tin, their shrills sift into white cumulus, a tarpaulin of blue. Between the latticework’s slats,
he observes the wooden gate through the cream rings haunting his eyesight. He waits to hear the
latch clunk, and release.
Kathylynne was reared in Australia’s down under, but moved to Los Angeles to pursue screenwriting and was fortunate enough to have a few optioned. One day, while she was writing, her mind went walking about, wandering, and she saw a sign that said: Write Poetry and Prose. Following her directions, and not forgetting her visual roots, she allows her pen to roam, penning pages of poetry, and lucky to have had several published, online and in print. At present, she is perspiring doing the hard yakka on her first novel.
