Poem Category: Australian

evening traffic passes
these green lemons hang
in the fairy fog

free hot soup and bread
me, with my bedding
under the bridge

journeying home
aboard ship
lost treasures from the deep

the house creaks,
the fire-side spits,
I take the book-mark out

spider eyes
the hate of their freedoms
staring at butterflies

great camera shots
tiger moths on white roses
a long way from home

time to close
the warmth of the library
to walk home in

cafe’ lunch for two
a dropped balloon
comes with the breeze

with all the unrest
of leaves
butterflies

Latin rhythms
freeing my feet–
the dance class