Clouds weep
the night fragmented
to street puddles.

Tropic isle
filling the sea
the moon pulls back.

blanket snow
a bell bird
tinkles the air

summer-sweet salads
out of father’s garden
our sliced tomatoes

Cemetery
the weight of those things
stopped being said.

Baby bum smooth
the harbour fog
kissing my face.

Garden table
Wordsworth melting
in the April showers.

Thin mountain airs
letting the wedge-tail eagle
fall onto the dove.

Forever.
spring grows
just four green things,
the bursting buds,the grass
the sparrows peck,the moss
stains to old trees,the love of each
first kiss

camping
our coffee cups in
a gathering of trees

Taxi horn
in a moment she’ll turn
in the hall to leave.

REM
yet sleep softens each fall
of her breast.