going through spring heatwave here
tempretures that are hot for summer
the last three days.

sweltering
guzzling
perspiring

phhht so hot
the lizards are seeking shade
the devon rex has declared
the bath tub as his and hisses
if we try go move him


sweltering
guzzling
sweating

found my boy
sleeping with the fishes
really he had climb into the fish pond
and was pretending to be asleep
while the fishes swam around him

perspiring
guzzling
sweltering


sweltering perspiring guzzling

sent the surfer dude out for some beer
he was taking a long time
rang him....hes said i live her now
in the beer fridge...at dan murphies
come join me....bring pizza and the boy
we will be happy

the odd sockery
do but mock me
as the lego bits
grind the bones
of my heels
faintly i smell
old orange peel

toys, stuffed pell mell
into ye old treasure chest
the piece of three weeks old pizza
you ain't ever gonna unring that bell

favorite teddy at rest on window sill
looking far from his best
and in his snake-arium, lies bill
the blue tongued lizard lazy and still
on the shelf beside, the books
of the boy wizard,
the one with the glasses

the bed barely passes
the status of made
and in the nooks
his father created
all sorts of findings
and keepings and
thingamabobs are laid

bless, in the corner a beanbag, sags
with the weight of my world
and his book bag, all snuggled up
with the tuxedo cat, whose motor purrs
like a harley cruising on by

the room a catastrophe,  in it's early stages
but  at the sight of them my ire disengages
and i stop still and thank the stars in heaven
that these two are mine, that they are happy
and safe and incredibly fine

sunday afternoon in the burbs
somewhat, wonderfully sublime

sitting on the steps
gorging on  watermelon
spitting out the pips

kookaburras laugh
a shepards delight sunset
the cicadas sing

evening star rise
and now the gloaming begins
time to head inside

it gleams
it glows
and refracts light
into rainbows
on the shadowed walls
flickering with the last fire
of this winter

this faceted crystal
lives in the amber lights
speaking of it's years underground
of the smell of peat and other organic matter
it talks of presing and pressure,
of waiting, of dormancy
of silence and solitude
of tetonic shifts, and little landslips

of the sound of pick and axe
and the rumble of machinery
the gabble of voices, the greed of man

it talks of admiration followed by
cleaving and faceting and grinding
it speaks of currencies

it speaks of love, of exicitement
and trepidation, of yearning
and of acceptance and joy

it tells of years of happiness
of washing up and of being held
in quiet embrace, it tells of nights
just like this,  sitting in front of the fire
basking in it's glow, making rainbows
on shadowed walls

ten thousand tears
fall to your memory
enough to water
a grove of magnolia trees

ten thousand joys
remembered there
give light and sun
to the soul, stripped bare

and as those trees
grow with light and water
we sit and revisit sorrow and joys
and contemplate, the art of bee's
to bring colour to the palest day
before leading us home
to hive and life, leaving behind
toys and strife....before we succumb
before we falter...to the melancholy
of those that remain

the first spring flower
brings you to mind sisterkin
hands deep in the earth

growing things your bliss
as i watched tea cup in hand
we solved all problems

there in that garden
while the fat persian cat  stood
and watched, purring

the scent of lemon zest
reminds me of my grandad
both sunny and sharp