The jacaranda in October plunges
into blossom, stands naked
limbed in the strong wind, hoping
for a bird or insect. Noisy
pita and ground parrot come silently,
but the strong winds take a toll
and the fallen blossoms pop, pop, pop,
beneath rubber on the road.
Behind where you sat on my sofa,
and across the pool,
the jasmine blooms.
perfect as petals,
If you are lucky in January
the big fence will bloom
again and make you smile,
if I am lucky. And I will
be lucky, because you smile easy and often.
The sun will be master then, and we
will seek out cool places, walk
on the shady side, put a little water
in the single malt. There is a bottle
of Bowmore here, but it may not last, because
the peat of Islay is delighting
the edges of my tongue.
Christmas time will come and friends
will gather to celebrate, but
for me there will be the spicy anticipation of
sharing the city
visiting the Coast
bickering about the Ashes
enjoying this strange land
while we reminisce about
childhood and chalk hills and Channel coast promenades.
We will toast absent friends
and at night through the scope
we will look at the southern
sky: the Cross, the Magellanic
clouds, and the jewel-box. And you
will see familiar shapes
inverted in the sky.
Because things are different here.