Poem Category: Australian

the ankles
your sari
brushes on stairs

frost
freezes the moons
the puddles hold

in the earth
who can tell
the future of a seed

cutting herbs
I find I am back
to Mother’s meals

how visibly
is Laurel changed
out of the waterfall

sun danced
in the river
the stones we used to cross

dazzling
the trams in light–
the midnight rain

road trip
the Southern Cross
all our way home

cake forks down–
our Grand-aunt
contradicts our Mother

wet weekend
the cicadas
hold back their cries