Poem Category: Australian

Lover’s lane
windscreens fogging
their silence.

For hours now
the abattoir has no sound …
a crescent moon.

Midday or later
the shrill of cicadas
across the heat of the park.

In mother’s wake
cygnets bob
the sunshine about.

Low tide
etched around
the horse-shoe of the bay.

Tasting the salt
in the sea fog
winter stroll.

Summer begins
a chorus of cicadas
into the park.

Painter’s brush
creating the waterfall
without a sound.

Walk by the lake
a fish circles
within a stone’s throw.

Homeward
over the holiday resort
migrating geese.