Fostering Love

Years ago we dreamt of a foster child

before our numbers grew

We believed a child

could grow in our home

yet affection would misconstrue

no desire to return the favours you give

no gratitude for the way we live

With this in mind I watered the soil

to love and care for you


You are my best friend

I cared for you before we even met

All the unspeakable things

I held out to account

When we pull others up

Out of the mud

It is surely to be flown at us

I wore it well enough

All for Him

and you.

Image source: Chrystal, Rocks and Gemstones: beautiful things found in the dirt.

rainbow gem

Lady Mountain

Here we are, nestled in a crisp valley

bunkered by rows of apples, cherries, pears and poplars.

Here in a sun trap shaped by the mountains

rounding us like a sleeping curvaceous woman side-lying

covered in an olive green felt blanket of eucalypts and pines.

Her shoulder point is the top of our hill,

our yellow weathered board cottage

rests in the nape of her knee.

Her feet dangle in the cool trout stream

tickled by blackberries and bracken ferns,

by the rivulet.

Way up nigh the crest of her shoulder,

leading down to the crook of her spine,

lays an open range of field lying open to the air,

uncovered and bare.

Tufts of grass populate the open ground

like goose pimples pricked by a cold southern front.

In Summer the sun peers a brazen eye over shoulder

as an outstretched lovers arm,

by winter it illuminates her waist over glittering blanket of white.

A smooth dirt lane weaves a long crooked leg from the rivulet

to a fork-road navel servicing gates, apple sheds and stables.

It narrows and elevates between the cleavage of tended fields

crawling up the neck, waning into a wallaby lair causeway

leading to thickets of densely woven hair.

Nimble and wiry wildlife dart flippantly into this mat of eucalypts,

accustomed to uninterrupted freedom

to feed and increase.

A variety of bungalows lie dormant

amidst the native and exotic rows of foliage within the valley.

Smoking incessantly, knowing their days are numbered,

the chimneys breathe warmth and life into living rooms

adorned with walls of ancestry.

Layers of generations cover and insulate the rooms,

years of wallpaper, wood, tile and paint,

defending its age and masking the wrinkles of time.

Eyes peer out warped windows twitching at the treetops,

hibernating while the cold becomes stronger.

Bulbs push through the barrier of clay

to herald the coming of Spring

and the blossoms obey

spreading out in their millions,

a white spray along the legs

of lady mountain.