Poem Category: Australian

when thunders are dry
the body of the river
raising from its dust

a round white moon
fireflies across the river
move the stars

adding firewood
the scent of the stack
in an early day fog

winter skeletons
the trees of our street
strangers in fog

loud and still
an axe man in the drying dew
about his business

all night at sea
the magpie young
outlive the storm

my performance poems
a three page practice…
midnight ticks on

midnight stars
where my pencil moves
the haiku gather

headstone
we shoo the crows back
to winter winds

the visitors settled,
on our family table
grandma’s hand knit lace