Poem Category: All

he watches her
spray-hose
the climbing roses

free from the earth
the butter-pan sizzles
of our mushrooms

her herbs
scenting the garden
scenting the rain

afternoon heat
the scents and foams
of the ferry’s wake

backyard Oak
I whittle on a copy
for our mantelpiece

a crow’s ruffle
whooshing up the quiet
behind me

piebald cat
licking her black spots
in the shade

our heads down
the whoosh of a crow
here and gone

old girl next door
her plastic rake broken
among the Autumn leaves

this leaning road
to a distant valley
in the breath of trees and home