in which all turns

for a creature is in the soil

burrowing for something,

tossing without sense and

scampering, whimpering;

 

and sun is shining so finely

on leaves which hang

like fragile hankerchiefs

in an endless warmth;

 

then birds gather us up

in a sky become laden

with tears, though rain

brings little relief.

 

words are wrung out,

we see a winter and

we nest, for peace.

All turns

 

Copyrighted by the author

Autumn’s spring

There was a day

when autumn touched

upon the winter ground

and tossed it out

when trees bared

themselves to spring,

and daffodils bloomed,

though it was June.

 

That day, spun in sun,

bleached the reef

with careless love

and coral sunk

in colourless sea

and we gardened on

 

Copyrighted by the author