Poem Category: Australian

From the wood bridge
we cross by daily
the diving school-kids.

Orchard kiosk
paying for our box of peaches
in their honour tin.

Tiny forest noises…
whose death call
comes tonight.

Confessional
the sound from some priest
forbidding my sins.

Eucalypt forest
the sound of the wind
reshaping itself.

Into a great gloom
the rain forest swallowing
our bicycle lights.

Ocean sunset
stepping from wave to wave
a summer breeze.

Between stones
hands making a cup
of the cool stream.

Face-painting
being mother
she tries it before her doll.

Lake side
beyond the streetlights
another moon.