Gentle touch
A mother's words
Soothes my need
Let it be enough
Soothe
Reply
Silence speaks
Not a word required
For all my hundred thousand
Your silence speaks more
Drifter
We are but two clouds
Drifting in same direction
Melting into one
Growing on
seasons unnumbered friskiest kitten whiskers growing on my chin
Love like
A haiku
Art no rhyme
Nor title
Beats numbered
Steps taken
Only closer
To sudden end
Sweet surrounds
Painted in mind
Inhabit dreams
Yet never mine
Fringe dwellers
Trip between contours
Fencelines
Permaculture plots
Tending heritage seeds
Trellised vines
Espalier pears
No mere's lands
As edge of bush
Encroaches on homes
Spending pleasant hours
Sunbathing naked petals
Early Nancy prompt to seed
No time for weeding
Mingle in the mire
No need to compete
Free to retire
Rosny Hill, Tasmania
Swoon
Tending fields of gold
Wild meadows chorus in tune
Swollen harvest moon
Love finds a way
Sincerely yours
Streams of regrets
Trail along
Passing storms
Probably for the best
Since she had little
Patience
For bouts of anxiety
Directly related to
Her presence
Sweet smelling buds
Of opportunity open
Before me
Tiny fleck of scar
Always showing
Blooming through
White picket palings
Sweetness
An all consuming love
Insatiable hunger
For fine delicacies
Who ups and leaves
A sachet of saccharine
In finest of tea
Come to fruition
Time and patience
All is needed
A scarcity of these
Delayed satisfaction
Uncertainty plagues
Ecology means home
Deprived of opportunity
One may never grow
Count the stars of heaven 