120109 slow dawn in the garden

17 Jan

magpie’s voice
drips from a jacaranda
the air is fresh and slightly cool
strange eyes watch me
spiders’ threads caress me, catch me
foliage defrosts to colours
crotons a-fire
one palm frond moves
and then

bamboo leaves
rustle and ginger waves yellow hands
little birds pass high in the trees
all’s still again
magpie’s throat honey-drips, again
pigeons coo in the eastern neck
four crows approach
calling sunshine

the soil smells sweet
one pigeon tells of a sun dream
like an oboe
tell it again
no dew no rain
spider’s web shows itself, empty
warm me up, come on, warm me up
then suddenly
with rosellas

Leave a comment

Posted by on 17 January, 2012 in #MoP12, POEMS


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: