Poem Category: Spring

Nursing home

our fishing day out

yet father always leads.

All afternoon

the wind following

the scarecrow‘s shadow.

Peach orchard

on father‘s shoulders

she picks the first fruit.

Sunday in the park

the kite‘s dragon eyes

tilting at heaven.

Grey dawn …

if magpies dream

their calls late this morning.

Taking left-over meat

back to its Gum tree

her favourite magpie.

Swan lake

the line of cygnets

in a mother‘s wake.

Being spring

the scarf on the mountain

returns to the sea.

Spring clean

the rag‘s bag dragged

from room to room.

Carved heart still there…

the hollow sounds

from the tree‘s core