Late Morning

He is resting under the blankets
one arm thrown up against his head,
eyes closed, face pale.

Later I hear him wake;
he is murmuring to the cat.
Then I hear him singing.

Myself at Breakfast

I tilt my head right back
draining the strawberry taste
of my diet shake breakfast
and its soft, creamy texture.
Then with one finger I prise off
the bright pink top of the shaker
to spoon out what’s left
on its sluggish way down the sides
thick like oozing lava, but cool,
deliciously cool.

Winter Evening, My Place

I can see the grey rain
hanging heavy in the clouds over there
coming down close to cover the mountains.
I can almost feel it in the cold air
which tingles like fine drops of water.

Two green lorikeets with deep red beaks
tumble above me, flying low
and disappear, shrieking in play,
into the bottlebrush tree.

Awakening

They were miaowing for breakfast.
I groaned, turned over, went back to sleep.
They waited awhile. A little later, the black one
leapt softly on to the bed. I opened my eyes
to a gentle touch on my arm with his paw
and an earnest, questioning gaze. He even
had his claws retracted. So polite!

And It's Not Even Spring!

Hanging out the washing,
I hear, ‘Click, click’ on the fence posts,
turn and see green face, red beak
pecking at the vines, not a bit afraid
of my proximity. But by the time
I fetch the camera — gone.

I had to get the bird book out.
It was a Scaly Breasted Lorikeet,
my first. (I deplore the name.
Those ‘scales’ are bright feathers.)

Morning Sun

Even through closed blinds
the morning sun
dances into my kitchen.

The Garden My Father Made

I wake from a dream 

of my childhood garden,

magical garden,

my personal Paradise.

Only now, in my old age,

I realise my Dad made it,

that place of my happiness.

Then, I simply enjoyed.

Playtime

That hard, percussive sound 

of a football repeatedly kicked

resounds along our street.

The boys are back from school.

The cats watch through the flywire.

They avoid catching my eye.

The fur is lifting on their necks. 

They do not ask to be let outside.

Hurting

When the pain is bad,

sometimes he gets very quiet.

He seems absent-minded,

his expression saying

he can barely tell who I am.

Then it tires him at last

and he drops asleep in his chair.