The brown earth snake
winds up the hill.
We travel on it, ants in
space
held in by tree upon tree
upon tree,
one dropped by bat or
bird to mark
each year since the start
of counting
four hundred million
years ago;
and ferns for festivals
and feasts
in case the months go
unremembered.
Somewhere in a green
curve
the firework bursts of
two hydrangeas
dazzle the eye, pull in
the breath, attract
butterflies, their very
familiarity
reminding us we both are
strangers.
Joe Massingham, Australia
3 comments:
Joe Massingham was born in the UK but has lived the second half of his life in Australia.
Major employment has been as a Navy officer, university student from first degree to PhD, tutor, lecturer and Master of Wright College, University of New England, NSW. Has run his own writing and editing business but retired early because of cancer and heart problems and now spends time waiting to see medical practitioners, writing poetry and prose and smelling the roses.
He has had work published in Australia, Canada, UK, Eire, India, Nepal, New Zealand and USA.
The contrast of familiarity vs. strangers is something to ponder. I like the firework bursts.
wonderfully sensitive poem!
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