new lace curtains
the merriment of spring
out the window

Deep water
the white heart
of a full moon.

horizon
letting our sails fill-in
the first light.

without a surf
the ocean fizzles out
to my feet.

singing deeply
in the mountains
whale dives.

ploughing home
a windjammer
spray after spray.

deep water green
shared from my phone
dolphins in the swells.

in solitude
the streaks of the dolphins
guiding our boat.

orange horizon
a crinkled ocean
washing the suns.

island cruise
the anchor sinks
into swaying kelp.

Orchard
closing wounds after the hail
the ooze of peaches.

White table
the poppy in a blue vase
so orange bright.

First light
smelling a pursuit
the stallion turns to fear.

A magpie calls
the misty orange dawn
behind him.

Becoming alive
the painted eyes
on his birthday kite.

Lounge-room
a square of winter sun
around the curled cat.

Nursing home
our fishing day out
yet father always leads.

Sunrise
close to heaven
gypsy geese returning home.

The eagle circles
small bits of sunlight
falling from him.

Grey dawn
so heavy the fog drains
out of tulip cups.

In the hay barn
two hidden laughs turned to
by the owl.

Lightning fades
the hour-away river
starting to trickle.

All afternoon
the wind following
the scarecrow's shadow.

Pelican family
stepping out of wings
to the shallow tide.

Peach orchard
on father's shoulders
she picks the first fruit.

Foster home
the nine wood steps
still creaking.

Sunday in the park
the kite's dragon eyes
tilting at heaven.

Sudden red light
the wail of an ice-cream
hitting the car floor.

And the dusk empties now ...
magpies quietening
into shades.

Snow melt
out of stone hillocks
re-birth of the stream.

Snow-fed waterfall
raising our skins
with goose-flesh.

Tattoo
painting into the skin
her youth.

Dots in the dawn
pelican following pelican
to the clear blue lake.

Cast off
in the Frangipani falls
a tiger snake skin.

Limp sails
taking a day to find us
the afternoon swell.

Fog lifts
finding on the bus stop seat
fresh graffiti.

Grandfather clock strikes
the moonlight moves
into the attic.

Hovering above ...
a carp treads water
under the dragonfly.

Taking left-over meat
back to its Gum tree
her favourite magpie.

The tide ebbs,
to feel it leaving
neck high in horse-shoe bay.

Express trains
the thinness of the weeds
in the platform cracks.

Wedge-tail eagle
so long shadowed
the mountain moves.

Dawn rising
the frailty of Venus
on the window alone.

Sunset stretches
our shadows
caught underfoot.

Swan lake
the line of cygnets
in a mother's wake.

Morning web
all the hunger a moth leaves
fluttering past.

Lifting mist
the shapes of dawn
in the mushroom field.

Moonlit walk ...
in the strands of your hair
spider threads.

Two tree hill
how our names grow
in the heart.

Emptying the nest ...
hovering for a moment
the downy chick.

Being fog
the scarf around the mountain
returns to the sea.

Spring clean
the rag's bag dragged
from room to room.

Carved heart still there...
the hollow sounds
from the tree's core.

Ebbing with
the tides of sleep
Sunday lay-in.

Flicking a bed sheet
the sunbeam glittered
with our dust.

In sleep
the far barking dogs
that won't.

Wet weekend
a snail slides itself
to the front door bell.

Shadowing
a ring of sunlight
the birding cat.

Sleep that won't
listening to the roof
creak with wind.

Flame trees
igniting autumn's need
to rake and burn.

Candles and wine
the white glove moon
on her ring-less hand.

Today she leaves home
a young dove flapping
her wings about.

Paris cafe's
empty umbrellas
spilling the rain.

Turning
to its night vision
the barn owl.

Faster into it
the lower it sinks
the horizon moon.

Huddled under a tree ...
after the lightning
our long walk home.

Rustled garden
clouds corral
the sunspots.

Empty park
letting the storm
onto the swings.

Homing pigeons
finding holes
out of the storm.

Under glass
finding in the puddles
rose petals in frost.

Sensing home
pigeons together
through the storm.

The day kissed by spring
sail boats on the river
a lot slower.

Pouring out the joy
of a cool white wine--
river picnic.

In the fish pond
no moon to float
the moth's flutter.

Rain forest
in and out with its torch
the full moon.

Fallen oak--
lets the struggles begin
for her seedlings.

Garden shed
surprised... a spider
behind the old biscuit tin.

Brushing the sky
a moth enters the fall
of oak leaves.

New year turns
I blow the first note
for our clarinet trio.

Sunset on the sea
little specks of geese
as souls migrate.

Buried pet ...
a new puppy stirs
in her cradled arms.

Spring hives
the buzzing spreads out
to wildflowers.

My need to rest
ignores the rot
of the fallen Pine.

Drenched mail-box
a snail slimes
even the hand-written.

I find they glow more
at twilight
the white roses.

Dragonfly wings
quietly wrinkles
the bird bath.

Moon swept tides
by such force
the kelp forests sway.

Long grass
fresh mown...
the bamboo rake turning green.

Wedding photographer
gathers us in the wind
about the church yard.

Seeing how
the bees come to the roses
mainly by colour.

Rain forest
slime over-slimes
the autumn leaves.

Street cafe'
my daughter and I talking
in a newspaper wind.

The small boy's net
triumphant ...
his dozen tadpoles.

Earthy dew
sprinkled with the crowd
of mushroom heads.

Flipping
through travel brochures
the bus-stop winds.

Caterpillar
on every eaten branch
more sky.

Father's borrowed car
down lover's lane ...
once in a blue moon.

In it, up to their necks
the snow stretched
buttercups.

Without a wing
circling in a breeze
the oxeye daisy.

Fatherlands
the gypsy geese's
touch-down again.

Merging circles
a trout leaps moonshine
around the lake.

Garden Buddha
the cat snarls explode
in the loose gravel.

Spilling its seeds
to the urge of spring
jacaranda husks.

The tip-toe tot
now knowing
roses make her sneeze.

Midnight mass
the streetlights haloed
by fog.

River falls ...
all of its drizzle curved
rainbows.

Lover's look-out
the pulse of their city
under lights.

Picnic sun ...
so bright Laurel‘s shadow
has eye lashes.

Nursing home
our fishing day out
yet father always leads.

All afternoon
the wind following
the scarecrow‘s shadow.

Sunday in the park
the kite‘s dragon eyes
tilting at heaven.

Grey dawn ...
if magpies dream
their calls late this morning.

Taking left-over meat
back to its Gum tree
her favourite magpie.

Swan lake
the line of cygnets
in a mother‘s wake.

Being spring
the scarf on the mountain
returns to the sea.

Carved heart still there...
the hollow sounds
from the tree‘s core

In sleep
the far barking dogs
that won‘t.

Sleep that won‘t
listening to the roof
creak with wind.

Flame trees
igniting autumn‘s need
to rake and burn.

Plumber‘s soil
left on the lawn
pecked by sparrows

In the fish pond
no moon to float
the moth‘s flutter.

From the patio
the wind-chime‘s joy
spreads through the house.

Friend‘s party
a kiss for our love once
ivy on the wall.

Street cafe‘
my daughter and I talking
in a newspaper wind

The small boy‘s net
triumphant ...
his dozen tadpoles.

Fatherlands
the gypsy geese‘s
touch-down again.

Lover‘s look-out
the pulse of their city
under lights.

Kitchen table
the moon falling off
to brown linoleum

Sunshine
bedazzled the wildflowers
and brought the bees‘ buzz in.

in the resting fog
new-born lambs call
from the whiteness

the cat‘s whiskers
the purrs of a dance
in the school girl‘s arms

the fog lifts
watching a drop‘s measure
until it must fall

the soft twinkles
of moonshine
out watered lawn

mountain sunset
gentle
a scent of childhood

garden reading
a butterfly
leaves the sun

afternoon breeze
a rose bush
scents the rain

flitting butterfly
so many roses to tour
Sunday afternoon

the soft twinkle
of moonshine
our watered lawn

Office lift
the sense of their perfumes
one after another.

Window breeze
the curtain of moonshine
in...out...in.

a morning fog
the river at rest
under the bridge.

stepping stones
reaching out across the creek
my eldest daughter.

Circling me
in the sunshine kitchen
a painted-lady moth.