Poem Category: All

crow arrives
still silence
to await its caw

spider webs
still beading the fog
to midday

moon tipped leaves
still to fall
to rustles

enough mist
still to sign
the window

what settles us down
sweet sixteen daughter
turning the porch light off

low hung fruit
feeling their weights
for our apple pie

the sunset rushing
I cannot paint
what still remains

underground trains
the airs’ to and fro
around their blouses

a humming bird hovers
her stamina
each sip brings

swinging us out
and into the river
the lean of the eucalypt