Poem Category: All

while the stars birthday
with just flesh and bone
my mind’s their matter

honey trickled toasts
her taxi’s good bye
charges the kitchen

mad December night
denting car yard hail
to start the week’s sales

grandma’s lunch
her pain knuckled hands
setting the table

between the trees
a tiger moth
climbs the sunbeam

grey mist
late in the dawn
with no movable parts

the garden gate
closes after me
brushing Frangipanis