Poem Category: All

White table
the poppy in a blue vase
so orange bright.

Mountain trek
not seeing my smallness
until the lightning strikes.

Taking left-over meat
back to its Gum tree
her favourite magpie.

Spring clean
the rag’s bag dragged
from room to room.

In the cascade
a tiny waterfall
without its sound.

New year turns
I blow the first note
for our clarinet trio.

Street cafe’
my daughter and I talking
in a newspaper wind.

Afternoon tea…
the sips of honey-eaters
in the tulip cups.