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Morning Coffee

21 Nov

Creeper succulent
roots each span,
ten fingers grip the ground.

In Spring it’s on for
young and old: it’s on
for green and grey.

Fork lifts fingering roots.
Gardening gloves
roll up the rug.

Witchetty grub finds
no sanctuary
behind the white gardenia.

A butcherbird arrives,
silent as a
bird watcher.

He looks at me long.
Inclines his head and,
like a gent, he nods.

A pied flash up
into the mango tree.
and down behind the fence.

“Coffee!” comes the long
awaited call,
“and cake!” Baked fresh today.

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2 Comments

Posted by on 21 November, 2010 in POEMS

 

2 responses to “Morning Coffee

  1. Trudie Murrell

    22 November, 2010 at 5:18 pm

    Cake that someone has made for you tastes the best in the world. Lucky duck.

     
  2. piedhillprawns

    29 November, 2010 at 11:00 pm

    Earthy JDub. I love the roots and wings of Australia flitting in and out of these last few poems. Nice work.

     

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