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.


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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