new moon in august sows summer dreams of tomatoes succulent hung christmas bauble amongst the vines – of squash and melon swelling with the sun of long days, evening river swims and the unquenchable mystery of a year that turns and turns again. last night was burn-cold and bright with stars when i checked on…
cormorant wheels black wings along the tide, lands an arc of water against the wind. turning her back on the banked clouds rolling dark across hills she slips beneath the surface silent.
with limbs like silver snakes coral tree holds its buds to the sun petal by petal catching fire crisp cool on winter mornings. there is no un-remembering once we have remembered what we try to forget sunbird jewel bright on bare branches will sip the nectar sing the day call the winter sun to my…
waking starless under a blanket of mist thickened sky – knowing my night was peopled by dream, busy with colour and the almost taste of something remembered that exists there – here in the mist crowded morning only the spider-webs, night written and condensed into form, are visible.
in the night the mist came stole our valley – left nothing but the sound of sea where forest and hill should be over tea we discussed the matter my dragon breath billowing with the breath of trees huddled close against the starkness of all-sky from deep within the mist above the pushing sea birds…
too quiet for footfall i stand in the garden and breathe the coming day, while long fingered light that knows of summers passed pries open the buds unfurls new leaves and the jasmine croons her scent to the fading stars.
too muddy now to see the clear i had before you left. i had wanted to speak then i wanted to tell you something about loving openhearted about being here in this world in this body completely. (and so be it the morning you wake to a cold wind blowing through you because living beauty…
don’t give me nice words and quiet nods that clink amongst the cutlery and crooning current affairs. before i stifle yet another yawn lets talk real words about the weather or anything really. wet skin smelling like pine needles with mud between my toes is the weather. shouting at the sky to bring down rain…