Tag Archives: Seasons

Paint Some Trees

It doesn’t snow here
The ice would marry the red dirt
And the ghost gumtrees
Would become a canvas
For blood red handprints

I see my breath instead
Winter catching in my throat
Like a secret
Cold stuck in my lungs
Like a disease

The icy breeze gets in my knuckles
It swells my bones
And scares my body
From the inside out
Pushing needles through my skin

Fifty years from now
When the cold is too much
And my body old
I will envy the very day
I am living now

Best go paint some trees




From Me to You

If I could blow the sun from my side,
Metal tastings from the desert breeze,
And winding free, loose from eucalypt trees,
Still smelling like the essence of my youth
With the baking days of stinging blaze,
I would keep it trapped in a marmalade jar
And send it to you
To unscrew
And release
In your frozen water mornings
Where it would melt the fine white
So you could see the red dust
Settle on the pines
In your back garden.

Seasonal Ache

The seasons have an ache
For more.
Summer has desire
For the drenching
Of heat.
Autumn has a need
For wiping away
Long days,
Wanting only
Clean lines and
Leaving you to
Enter the cave
Of self made
Winter arrives with
An empty fan fare
Of the white
Wind whispers
And need to share
Space and body;
Quiet Books.
Drawing all in
As you nurture
And in its finding
Of your mind
Lets go swiftly,
Setting free for Spring
To feel and touch again.
Spring frolics,
Each day more and more
Until it becomes too much
So full,
So heavy with the bounty
Of beauty
And cherished things
That it rises
With joy
To welcome
The overwhelming
Of Summer
Once again.