Friday, 7 September 2018

Morning Has Broken

The fetal moon is cradled in cumulus 
Like a marionette, 
She is lifted from the stage 
Away from the spotlight on dawn  

As water boils for my early morning tea 
Strips of stratus redden the horizon 
Slowly, slowly, slowly 
A sliver of light expands to reveal  
The crown of a new day 

A chorus of boisterous birds  
Announces this blessed event  

My breathing is laboured  
As I head through the door, 
Camera clutched in hand, 
My black bag in another 
Quickly stocked with necessities  
Of paper, pen and a thermos  
Of honeyed elixir 

I race through unseen lines 
Of silk 
Stranded between the pathway, 
Then am christened  
With a sudden  
Suggestion of rain  
Washing away  
The gossamer artistry  

I am drawn to the dawn, 
The nature of softness,  
Clouds gilded with light  

Herons search  
For gifts in the shoreline; 
I have found mine - 
Words of elation  
Are delivered to mind       

Monday, 3 September 2018

Fabricating Fun











My mother darned socks,
Her forehead furrowed  
As she tried to thread  
The needle’s cycloptic eye 

On the upstairs landing 
Standing at the ready 
Was the Singer machine  
But it was hardly noticed 
Except for dusting day, 
Its voice dormant  
In the oak cabinet  

But when the radio played  
Buttons and Bows, 
Chantilly Lace,  
Blue Velvet,  
Forever in Blue Jeans 
Its foot pedal  
Began to bob and weave 

At least that’s the yarn I heard 
From my older brother  
Whose pattern it was  
To leave me in stitches  
With the stories he told                   

Clarity in the Haze

Minus the blistering flesh of hot dogs  
and marshmallows disintegrating on our tongues,  
we tasted smoke camped out in the public square 
as we sat around watching a preview of what’s to come 
while entertainers clad in costumes   
danced, sang and tried to entice us  
to their shows in under three minutes 
(one donned a flaming red boa for added warmth) 

After the screams and ovations, 
we returned, raspy-throated, to our homes, 
everything just as we left it; 
we flicked on screens for the latest updates, 
local air quality reports, 
saw firefighters in heavy charred uniforms  
performing intrepid acts for weeks  
until they were burnt out  
from slouching towards the apocalypse  
with a limp garden hose, 
their helmets emblazoned with varying letters 
that always spell out HERO