Archives: Poem Gallery

Wind in the corn
I whirl to the same rustle
the scarecrow has turned.

Sensing winter
the flame trees also
litter the paths around them.

The fig tree is
a tethered brumby
the storm gathers.

Front verandah
following the students past
the old girl’s wave.

We climb again
the waterfall sounds
becoming lost.

Two loud shrieks!!
the child’s torchlight
into the parrot’s cage.

Camp fire
brewing our coffees
of mountain snow.

Feet up
the slow turn of the lime slice
in her rose tea-cup.

Eggs on toast, coffee
a nearly forgotten dream
coming to mind.

Winter picnic
our shadows and our edges
lost in the grass.