Poem Category: Miscellaneous

Lightning
choking the howl
from the dog’s collar.

In the tall tree hills
down a winding road
motel lights in the fog.

Sunday lay-in
the corner spider
now with dots of her young.

Sunday lunch
dropping the family album
laugh lines slip out.

Nearly midnight
the brief case stealing
the bus driver’s eyes.

Grandmother talking softly
her tea-pot’s coloured
old and knitted cosy.

Vacuum bottles
the slurp of cooked peaches
spilling warm and sweet.

A rock climb
brushing my shadow
the tumble of a stone.

Incoming tide
sky blue seeps
into horse-shoe bay.

Burnt-out neighbours
yet was their chimney
just whistling wind.