Poetry | Stories | Photography
I work from home alone.
I raise my eyes to the window,
and
look out towards the hills, cows.
Magpies snap up worms from our lawn.
At lunch, I stand in thongs and a coat,
watching everything between heaven and Earth.
The wind wails of Winter, yet it is Summer.
Wondering which way,
hoping for inspiration,
the ways of the wind.
An old heart moving
against the Warragul wind,
to feel the cold rain.
Admiring the wild green hills,
slowly devoured by houses.
Condensation moves
My view of the world
Distant trees stand
Distorted by condensation
Wild wind whistling
Rain lashes the outside
Near and far from me
Whistling outside prison
Ceiling light reflection
Raindrops dance in my light
Outside, night creeps slowly
My view reflects only me
Condensation sets in
Rain running down, down
Outside is a dreamland
Rain, wind and whispers
My warm prison is artificial
My view, clear in my reflection
The sea calls to the wind,
the wind calls to the sun,
the sun calls to the moon,
the moon calls to Winter,
and
the land begins to darken.
The last rose of Autumn
begins to take flight.
Petals ride on the wind,
for there is no sun;
only the moon and Winter.
C & K 