Evening

the drone of the heating
mumbles “all’s well”
a mantra for peace

ghostly shadows
loom on the walls
sharp edges sleep

a line reaches
its mark on a gauge
the drone sighs into silence

it’s a windless night
a cat watches close
through the window

his book snaps shut
an incandescent glow
by a bed pops off

Winter Sunrays

They skulk in your shadow
on shoes covered in felt
so as not to make a single sound –

waiting –

for a crack in the pavement –

you trip – a slight twinge
dissipates –

you look up –

the sun slants the clouds,
it’s raining somewhere in the west …

but now the sun shines,
people hug walls,
hints of spring
seep from the luke warm radiance
left by the decay of winter sunrays –

you smile inwardly,
the skulkers have gone

until next time.

A Portrait of Patience

Patience follows
smoke whorls of incense,
twisting, turning, riding
the air, its cylindrical heart
glows orange,
silver ash falls in a whisper;
she chooses words
with great care to
stoke the fire of life,
the smoke dispels
a sticky atmosphere
with spirals doubling,
folding in curves,
embracing life;
Patience smiles
as the curtain waves
to the setting sun.

A Flight of Fancy

“A flight of fancy”, you say,
and I think,
“what does a fancy look like
flying: does it have two legs
extended like a heron
or curled talons like a hawk;
perhaps it carries fire
beneath its wings
like the silver brolga;
does fancy fly across hemispheres
like a Siberian sandpiper
navigating by the sun and stars
to winter in Australia…

On the other hand, could be
fancy has six legs
like an azure butterfly
dancing in rainforests…”

Smiling,
I incline my head,
behind your head
three dragonflies
are waltzing in the sun.

Diesel Bus Fumes

On a grey throated morning
a diesel bus passes
as I walk to the station
evoking crowded memories
of seasons long since turned,
a bright recollection springs up;
a red vinyl backseat
sticks to  my legs
on a hot summer’s evening;
I know any slight wriggle
will sting so I am listening.
The car engine sighs
on a long country road;
I sprawl on my back
looking up, out of the window
counting the stars,
marking their colours,
gold, brilliant white
and twinkles of blue.