full picture

full picture
macleans rd, bucklands beach, november 2017

full picture
How it looked even without looking, a Weathercat tail snap

no wind in the
sky, the paddocks
ever in a breeze
are park now with
childhood gulley
of wilderness,
cows sinister
in tree shadow
and a flickering creek
gulping with quicksand
in the wind-fired
imagination of
late afternoon,
become an easy
walk-through for
man and dog
only leaf sigh
and bird scattering
of song to jitter
ancient memories
awake, tramping those
paddocks with that boy

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little cat

Little Cat
call me sentimental, but anyone who loves a ‘pet’, a sentient being whose days are likely fewer than our own, is times assailed by this ache

little cat

Little Cat,
live forever,
let old hands
slide and rest
on your silken
warmth of fur,
let my arms feel
the trill of purr,
the lithe bundle
of your form,
the leap curled
live, outlive
me, dear
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