Underpinned – 14/3/18

All day long that
broken branch
in the big gum




Stuck out odd angle
in the why
of two branches.


The wind blows
it creaks.


The sun is silent
it creaks.


Patience groaning
alone up there
one day it will






Its so quiet when nothing is happening, nothing like cars or cats or chatting or airplanes or gardening or mowing. It’s just the birds and the wind and the talking of the trees, they’re so busy living yet it feels so quiet. 

You Ask Me For The Answer – 12/3/18

You ask me for the answer.


If I had it I would give it to you,
I would spill it out from the hessian bag where I would keep it,
The smoothness of it would be catching on the rough edges,
Making it tumble out awkward and uneven.


I would spell it out in splendid gold gilt letters,
I would hang it on my office box,
With red highlights and ornamental curls,
And framed.


But I have searched the answer,
In skies and skudding rain,
In the spaces in between the rubbing together leaves.
Till I forgot my name.
I asked the canary.
But he was silent in the mine dug so that I could ask the molten core.



And my garden isn’t so ordered,
In sandpit boxes, border edges,
That it would be apparent where to find it,
Supposing that you could.


The chocolate mint is hidden under tomatoes,
The potatoes are growing in the junk heap.
What I call the path is the places without plants,
There is no map.


So supposing that I had the answer,
Held neatly in my hand, yes,
I would pass it on to you,
But I’m having too much fun, scratching under rocks,
And digging trenches,
To tell you that the answer isn’t hiding in these small things,
It’s much bigger.




Buds come at anytime – 6/3/18

My pumpkin vine is still gamely unfurling buds. Does it know that soon the air will snap freeze overnight? The tomatoes will melt. I will be sad to see them go most of all. The best part of summer gardens is popping bright red cherry tomatoes into my mouth, still warm from the sun, seeds and juices exploding. This year however my garden has given me a reason to look forward to that icy season, the one I usually dread above all others.


When the first frost warning arrives, I will cover everything that I can with hay or clear plastic, to try and let the life linger a little longer. Hopefully I’ll have some cold weather tomatoes this year. Then I will grab my seeds for broccoli, peas, leeks, and look forward to learning about the plants that thrive as the earth sleeps in frost and freezing winds.


False spring takes heat from
The sky and buries it in
The depth of the earth




Having to look at this prompt from dVerse from the other side of the world where it’s Autumn not Spring, and this haiku that I wrote recently fit well. 


The Letter I Will Not Send – 5/3/18

I am writing this from a place of sun and trumpets,
Yes there is a slight breeze, isn’t there always?
On such a day as this, there is no phrase that springs to mind,
Original. Anyway.
I wanted to say, this is just a note to say…
I have held these words on the tip of my tongue so many times,
I wanted to let them drip,
I wanted to tell you.
So this is just a note to say.
I’m glad I told you once, at least, this letter being my pigeon,
Frantically flapping it’s wings against an impenetrable wall of air, wild eyes in grey weather,
Pigeons are not the most reliable. There is no path by sea or sky to where you are.
As I said before, this has wanted to spill from me to you so often, and I
would have let it,
I would be that first hammer to the dam any day,
Especially on such a day as this,
But you are not here to be drenched with these words,
None of you are here,
So this is just a note to say.


I’m too late to link this to dVerse, but it was a great prompt 😊