Tenacity: Cypresses XIV

The southerly fury whipped their brittleness

Like curses and still they stood. A stolid rejection

Of inclemency, a tenacity from long ago

Transplanted to this foreign land long before

I arrived in these suburbs, also a stranger.

Here they use the term native with pride so

I plod warily on this land though my cypresses

Declare ownership with bellicose grandeur.

I am content to shelter in their shadows

Observing that the filigree delicacy of a climbing

Hibbertia can also ride out the storm.


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in which a moon turns to thunder

“the cottonpuff moon bounces in the clouds tonight”

I caught a line of poetry from the plovers pecking and pacing

on the roof top singing to the sky as clouds marched in

from the west, such majesty, as if expecting a grand reception.


persistence creates a presence. the darkening afternoon

sent us to sanctuary, suddenly an inner world becomes

a nest, all sombre gravity gathering somewhere far

away. an almost full moon disappeared, returning as thunder


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Surviving the Storm

The giant plane tree cracked, toppling beyond fence and shed to scatter

A dormant vulnerability across the suburb.

Cloaked in the chimera of  living, professing all the facades of toughness

Nevertheless, the tree was tossed lightly aside.

As the strong broke and fell, small plants struggling to breathe grew upright

And real, becoming more than they appeared as

Adornments clinging to the frontiers of earth. I ventured out

To countenance the damage

Expecting to see young seedlings gone, withered and drowned by torrents of rain.

It was not so.

How lightly they wear their grit, how perfunctory their survival, a preamble

To struggle yet to come.

I shiver in the cold, pulling on an overcoat as a substitute for pessimism.



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