bright things,
glisten and shimmer
in the corner of my eye


little fairy wings
flit and flutter
in the outer circle
of my sunny day sky

my oak and acorn
plant seeds in the sunshine

no hope for sadness
no room for forlorn

today is bright
daffodils and roses
happy faces, happy poses

small sloppy kisses
and large heartfelt ones too

the last days of summer
shining, shining through...

dappled sun ...
green grass too,

we all lay down,
soak the heat
from the ground

happy to, look for fairies
and pixies, and gnomes,
lady bugs, inch worms, skinks
and grasshoppers too.....

dragonflies hover
and race the wind

butterflys, flutter
art on the wing

and in the tree
the kookaburras  chuckle
the magpies warble
wrens chatter

these are memories
although, destined to be lost
these are memories that matter
these small things and lazy days
are the backbone of our lives
holding us upright in times of strife
giving us grace to cope, with the darkside of life

these bright things, lead us home.....

everything of
me was choir-song

every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,

in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,

in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,

in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,

and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,

everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,

i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.

Why does rain smell?
How come leaves make that
Crunching sound when walked
Upon in autumn? That
Great October Sound.

We love seconds and minutes.
Hours and days are for the
Weak,
Weeks and years for the
Hopeless romantics.

Nothing hopeless
About our romance.
We just shut up and take it in.
Love? Photo album in words?
Yes.

We know it.
It's like laughing when her
Dog Shelby
Kisses me, and I kiss her back,
Wet snout and all,

And she carries that kiss to her
Owner;  
So beautiful by the mirror,
Asking me:
Should I wear the black or the

Purple dress? and I lean back
And enjoy her trying them
On.
We are the Moment People.
We snapshot microseconds

And capture them
Like this.
This is why we're poets.
We help them remember.
We write for the ones we love.

Won't you sing for me,
Sweet singing bird
It's been so long
Since I thrilled to the trills and warbles
Of your living song
This confused and bruised winter
Has defied nature's logic
So, set the world to rights
And sing for me
To remind me
That I'm part of something
That still remains wild
And vivid

                            By Phil Roberts