Poem Category: Australian

in the earth
who can tell
the future of a seed

frost
freezes the moons
the puddles hold

the ankles
your sari
brushes on stairs

brushing slowly
sounds as it is
the moon in Laurel’s hair

sea colouring
the sunset’s
orange juice

autumn blows
found in the leaves
the rake rusting

ebbing marsh
I know so well
the pelican’s spiral

our shrinking town–
would sound better
in a single’s dance

daughter
the front fence
in birthday balloons

art supplies
her pencils
draw the sun