At Home

(Sijo*)

The familiarity of home, garden, my two cats,

the little town where I live and the people who are my friends,

all these and autumn — ah, glorious autumn! — they nurture me.

*A three-line Korean form explained at dVerse Form For All: Out of Asia

Dead Tree

He gives the dead tree trunk

a light shove. It rocks 

in its socket of earth.

Confusion of Season

The usual mild Autumn.

Again the plants are fooled,

blooming as if in a second Spring —

yellow gorse everywhere along the roads, 

gardens profuse with new colour.

Submitted for dVerse Poetics — Spring

Visiting Maureen

vistas of trees

from all windows

A New Morning

A new morning.

Sunshine.

Birdsong.

My mood lifts,

grows gentler.

Contrasts

The small boy

on the lawns of Crystal Castle

runs happily past,

oblivious of the huge white quartz
at least four times his size.

Just Before Sunset

Sun burning gold

bounces and rolls

over the tree-tops
alongside the road.

The car draws ahead

but around the next bend

the dancing blaze 

is keeping pace.

Loud

It doesn't stop rumbling, the thunder, after starting with a huge 'Boom!' 

'What a beautiful day!' we said earlier, and then, 'How hot!'

I open the doors to let in the cool. A little spittle of rain flies right through the flywire onto my leg. The noise gets hugely louder and the house shakes. (Surely I imagined that?) Now the rain pelts down hard, and I hear the cracks that mean lightning. The cats are curled up, one in each doorway. They like to watch storms.

It gets louder yet. Then there's the hugest crack I've heard in years. We all jump, and the cats swap doors. I switch off the wireless modem and unplug the landline phone. 

More, yet more, again and again. I've still got power. I bet some people haven't.

Then, as suddenly, it's quiet. The rain stops in an instant, except for the sound of heavy drips from roofs and branches. The humidity returns.

Suddenly Summer

We have Summer at last, for one day - one day of clear blue, deep blue sky; enough warmth for me to wear a sarong; the slightest breeze rippling the ferns just a little, behind the flight of a white butterfly. The drone of a mower somewhere is too faint to disturb; it makes a pleasant, bee-like hum. The fern fronds are softest green. I nod off in the noonday heat, which increases. I think of beaches and rivers and backyard pools, of immersing myself in lovely water. But I think lazily - sitting here, peaceful, in my sweet green garden.

  Submitted for dVerse: It's not easy being green and poetic - or is it?.