Currawong Day

A planting day, though

the wind swept through

again, a desert wind

dropping drought

like pollen.

 

A currawong joined me

as I planted, cornflower,

stock, pelargoniums,

the colour of us,

as one.

 

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Lunar Wind

all the coldness

of a lunar wind

this winter wind

winding through

sunlit branches

sweeping up

for spring

 

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and rain went

as if a sound unknown

strummed a zither

on the ground,

a patterning of equal

weight and delicate

timpani, rain notes

passing by

 

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Petrichor

Today, petrichor:

stillness

broken only by a miner bird

startled at the freshness

of what remained

unseen, a hidden dialogue

with clouds

presaging rain;

wipers on,

a gentle click-clack of drops

and the air fills

with curiosity, stones

turn into liquid threads,

rivulets of sound

return life

 

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Patchwork

Winter tasks,

though the warming sun

speaks of spring

and perfumed jasmine

even as pruning

shapes thoughts.

Mind travels to summer,

patchwork threading

among salvias and citrus,

space for drought plantings

and currawong dusk

as light darkens

into song.

 

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Feather breeze

Such calm upon a branch,

the sun on its back and

a feather ruffling

with the ease

of a magpie day

 

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Moon Grin- Haiku

Such a smile sliver

in a velvet sky, cloudless

except for moon grin

 

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