Poem Category: Spring

A magpie calls
the misty orange dawn
behind him.

Sunday in the park
the kite’s dragon eyes
tilting at heaven.

Bush walk
all this time lost
sitting by a waterfall.

Carved heart still there…
the hollow sounds
from the tree’s core.

Huddled under a tree …
after the lightning
our long walk home.

New year turns
I blow the first note
for our clarinet trio.

Rain forest
slime over-slimes
the autumn leaves.

Spilling its seeds
to the urge of spring
jacaranda husks.