The Beautiful Child Has Eaten

The beautiful child has eaten
what was in his bowl
and is asking for more.
This is the way of beautiful
children with four legs and fur.

The Foraging Ibis Bark

The foraging ibis bark.

One opens wide his beak

and emits a harsh tune:

Ack, ack, ack, AAAAH, ack,

repeats it exactly.

He meant it!

Jay Ungar (and Molly Mason and The Family Band) play Ashokan Farewell

he closes his eyes

over the notes

of his sweet violin —

haunting song of farewell
but his half-smile is bliss

Spring Has Arrived

The lorikeets are here!

With a quick shriek

two lights, bright green

dive out of the bottlebrush tree,

zap the air, skim the roof
and vanish.

A Candle Like a Pale Green Heart

A candle like a pale green heart
scented with rose petals.
Mara’s cousin made it as a gift.

We witches met to talk about hexes
in our Pagan discussion group.
Instead we light a love candle.

We light it for souls who may be lost
after their plane was shot down,
and for their sad families.

And for the shooters? Can’t quite
manage that yet, but we ask for them
that they may look into their own souls.

We never think to send a hex.

Time Passing

Just months since last we met.

I notice how much whiter her hair is now.

She gives me an appraising look. I think

she thinks that mine is whiter too.

The Client

A good, round face,

a smile,

brown hair cropped close
(just beginning to recede),

bright, round eyes,

direct gaze,
frankness,

ready understanding,

tears and laughter when

he speaks of his dead Mum.…

Good things,

but none explains —

nor even all together —

why I like him so much

and trust the liking.
Is it that indefinable, his energy?

Perhaps it’s the warmth,

or his insight,

or the way this kind, brave man
believes himself ordinary.

Greeting in the Supermarket

We say hello and I go to move on.

Her “How ARE you?” stops me.

Her eyes widen and become intent.

She really wants to know.

She recalls things I’ve told her,

asks about them and about now.

I feel cared for. I realise

we go back a long way.

Haunting

The mellow notes of wind chimes at my door 
mingle with the sound

of young Haylee across the way
practising her recorder

in thin, insistent piping
like my little brother’s long ago.