then light came, late

Colour disappeared from the day

a movie set we watched from far

set described sheets of rain,

for so it was though green

was drinking.


So that when light came, late,

camellia stirred, rose bloomed

light, a sudden litany of life

was made oddly imperfect.


Now I hear the crr crr steady

as waves  as if rain grew wings

and tickled the soil with chuckles.


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in which I ponder insect chorus

The heat sits tonight,

hanging around

summer town.

A choir is about,

expanding time

with a steadiness of sound,

an undulating beat

singing into dark.

Bird lingers too

descending far into  breeze

until all that remains

is insect tap and insect hum,

the very definition

of this day’s dusk,

on and on


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Lorikeets return

The umbrella tree sags with the weight

of lorikeets who know where trees

are heavy with food as they follow

the map of green and orange

grown in their wings of sight.

Such clarity as I could not have,

nor see the contours they can see

though I climb high, looking down

as if I were a bird, curious surveyor

of  human flight.


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