wind whispers

wind whispers
through open windows
a gentle sough

passing months

January winds down
as February's key
begins a slow turn

an epitaph

clouds striate
an epitaph for the day
inscribed on a darkening sky

writer's meditation

from doodles on my page
a mandala emerges
a writer's meditation

ants labour

ants labour, to create
a subterranean compound
hills grow overnight

passion spent

a feather floats
discarded garment
after passion spent

a waxing moon

a moon on the rise
taps against the window
in invitation

the sound of his grief

the sound of his grief
is heard in the deep silence
of his thoughts

Lost

Lost:
the creative spark
that drives my keyboard
return appreciated

hot winds

hot winds sear my skin
rain, too far away

on the porch rail

on the porch rail
a magpie slipped
in a vine wrapped
fall from grace

on one's own

a latte break
when unaccompanied
observations magnified

at the mall

at the mall, a grandmother bends
to kiss a child
forgetting for a moment
the creaks of age,
an exchange that sees her
stand, with a smile
that straightens her back

Pretenders

literary pretenders
trawl social networks
promoting skills they have yet to learn

Grandsons' visit

my house is littered
by the footprints of my grandsons’ visit
baseball caps, discarded socks, ipod cords
and sundry other boy things
but I know, after they’ve gone
the neatness will be an untidy silence 

Roots

leaves bend
toward the soil, like people
seeking their roots

Depression

depression; a thousand sorrows
beyond depth of tears
unutterable,
it covers his life in a shroud of blue

garage sales

suburban hunters
line up at the gate
jostling for position
ready to barter
the treasures of another

mothers and daughters

in my daughters I see
in each, an altered version
of a younger me

do they see in me
the mirror of their future

dead pens

desk tidy becomes
bulging sarcophagus
under a pyramid of pens

introduction to psychedelia

the doona brushing my chin
becomes the jacquard eiderdown of my childhood;
a brush with psychedelia

Contagion

his monologue quickens
to match his obsession
I stand back from contagion

In the depth of night

in the depth of night
a dripping tap becomes
the heartbeat of the house

tap birds

cockatoos in Blundstones
slow march across the roof
tap birds on tin

Slippery when wet

slippery when wet sign
abandoned on dry walk-way
human sheep detour, conditioned

scrambled thoughts on toast

up-market breakfast cafe offers
off-menu item of screaming children;
scrambled thoughts push eggs aside

Creaky joints

a worn out joint
does not discriminate
between seasons

Jacaranda

Jacaranda showers
purple rain
on a thirsty garden

Tea leaves

in empty tea cup
leaves reveal a  story
as yet untold

Total fire ban

Heat covers the bush in silence
as tinder twitches in expectation

AROS

New year, new day
my reflection shows
the same old me