Coffee in the courtyard

Coffee in the courtyard.
The low buildings,
the palms and frangipani,
the warm autumn sun
make me feel I’m in Darwin
or Bali, or Nepal.
‘It would be nice to be there,’
my companion says.  Yes,
and it’s nice to be here.

Snowy Mountains

Snowy mountains
of cumulous cloud
float in the sky,
directly above
the earth mountains
as if copying.

When I think

When I think there might be
a ghost in the house
I become modest,
undressing discreetly
and shutting doors.

In March

The spiders
are coming inside
out of the rain.
Autumn begins
with storms;
the winds rip off
whole branches.

11-12/3/11

tsunami
advancing across the screen
unfathomable

******

can turn off
the TV news, but not
the images

Watching Paris

The TV shows Paris,
Eiffel Tower jutting
into an overcast sky.

A beautiful city, I am told
by those who know it,
one of the most
beautiful in the world.

But I am unable to see
beauty in cities.
The Tower is grey
under all that cloud.
Around it, grey buildings
cram the screen.

Neighbour

The red-headed girl across the way
rides round and round on her bike
waving one hand high like a circus star.

Backyard Glimpse

Red and white flowers
together
covering a fence,
leaning together
away from the wind.

Spoilt Children

First one cat then the other

joins us on the bed.

We make them welcome,

stroke them till they purr.

They resettle themselves

against our legs. We attempt

to resettle ourselves — hard

to get comfortable. Soon

he’s in the spare bed and I’m

sitting up here at the computer.