Poem Category: Australian

too young to fruit
the apple trees hanging out
with old Jack Frost

window corner
the spider’s young
rainbows with dew

turning my eyes
to the rainbow beads…
dew on the apple buds

high noon
the eucalypts
paint the river

without a hint
the apple boughs
pregnant with buds

kept watching
the sunset fire
kept dying

with a rope swing
the school boy
opens the river

blackberries after lunch !!!
the purple grin
showing her tiny white lie

pinging
to its dances of hail
our old tin roof

sipping the river
a horse on guard
one at a time