Three Days Away

The vines have extended

new tendrils questing to spread.

I go and loop them back

through the old pathways

of curlicues covering the fence.

The rainclouds – active (I’m told)

in my absence – turn sluggish,

moving away very slowly.

There seem to be many more
flies and mosquitoes. The cat
retreats back indoors.

Garden Moments

Spring breeze –

a dead leaf dangles

from a web

******

mosquito –

I reach, close my hand
on empty

Spring Things

black-and-white

visiting butterfly

quickly gone

******

fine morning

tiny birds flutter

in new leaves

******

yawning early –

last night late with sexy

new novel

Selene Grooms Herself

She washes her white patch of stomach,

then interrupts herself

to listen to a distant bird;

moves around and licks her long tail

and curving flank – bracing herself,

one paw held firm to the ground.

The other, stretched in the air,

balances her as she twists.

Such a serviceable body!

For no particular reason that I can see,

she raises the end of her tail

straight up at a right angle.

(In the photo, she looks up from washing her stomach. After that I was writing, not snapping.)

#awakeaugust day 31

My Frangipani Has No Leaves

...the #awakeaugust small stone for day 30, is over here at my other poetry blog ('The Passionate Crone') – because it is also doing duty as a quadrille written for dVerse.

Lunch

She gives me vegetable soup 

in a plastic box with two blue clips.

‘I’ve made it thick,’ she says.

‘You can add more water.

I just throw everything in

and hope it tastes OK.’

It’s still hot when I get back home.

It fills my big white bowl.

I don't dilute it, I eat it thick –

savouring the tastes

of carrot and spinach

and the texture of the potato.

#awakeaugust day 29

Also linking to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #317

Hunch-Cat

She crouches against

the morning's faint chill,

making herself contained

yet huge to look at, all one lump

with two points of ears;

no stretching limbs.

no undulating torso.

#awakeaugust day 28