Today the Wind

Today the wind

is very quiet,

rustling not rushing,

a faint but insistent

white noise — not gone

not giving up, but still

whispering and shushing
and once more muttering.

Siege

The wind is making woo-woo ghost noises

and bumping the doors like an intruder

wanting to break in. I refuse to open

but it stays all day, insisting, even begging

with high-pitched wailing and then
the desperate, long, low, pitiful howls.

Revisiting

A recent photograph:

childhood home

changed.

Oh, look — my Dad’s roses

long ago

gone.

(Double tilus)

Overcast Sky

overcast sky white not grey

tiny blue

holes

This is a tilus, a new form invented by Kelvin S Mangundayao. I have fallen in love with it, and will probably use it often in this context.

Outside My Door

Insistent,

the sharp, sweet note

of Noisy Miners — 

not shrieking, as they would

if they saw my cats;

simply conversing, 
happily.

Sad

Little cold girl

cat on the doorstep

curling stubbornly

waiting for someone

who will never come.

I've been sitting on this one, which was written March 19, thinking 

there was more to add. I finally realised it's complete in itself.

Autumn Afternoon

A cheeky breeze

sneaks through the door.

Immediately, something in me lifts --

the joy that always comes

through decades of autumn breezes

in all the homes of my life.

The Day Steams Up

The day steams up

already, so early 

in the overcast morning.

The threat of rain

in this heat

brings stinging insects.

I like to meditate outdoors

but not always.

The Stillness is Inhabited

The stillness

before a hot day

is inhabited by doves,

white-breasted,

cooing intermittently

with long, low notes
from my neighbour's thick trees.