Poem Category: Australian

a salmon
opens the hole
the dragonfly fights

the white lie
seen in my eyes
she sits— reflecting

geese bottoms-up
one last feed
before crossing a sea

beyond us—
sunset steams
the sea with fire

in the picnic…
I never heard before
how she speaks my name.

In the picnic
the freckles dotting
Laurel’s nose

strong winds
seagull cries
there! not here!

dodging them
should avoid the sunbeams
in Dad’s old shed

summer breeze–
to a holiday house
a seagull calling

bee hive
I cannot count
the flowers