Poem Category: High Moon

high moon
the bag-lady’s old pram
turning round the corner

high moon
how charged is the confetti
in the church-yard wind

high moon
slamming the side gate
the wind in my head

high moon
putting the dog out
underclothes iced on the line

high moon
the rest of the henhouse
going the ways of a fox

high moon
how alert the frog pond
to the firefly’s light

high moon
the paths it crosses
to sail overseas

high moon
the whimsy of the mists
under the orange trees

high moon
our teenager late-
and off its head the sudden phone

high moon
the rain holding it
held in the mud