It is longer spring here
down at the bottom of the world
(if I were being truthful
at the very bottom of the world
spring is a mere matter of degrees)

Here in the land of Oz
we are in Autumn,
yet driving today,
the sunshining through
the last  of the clouds and
the waratahs red and vibrant
competing with the yellow
sunshine cascading drops
of the wattles , all outdone by
the bougainvilleas with their
bursts of deep, deep purple

the smell of lemon myrtle and eucalypt,
giving a zinging zest to the air
you could well believe that
nature did not get the memo...

it is true
that until
some one
has gone from you
you do not know how will
miss them...

i miss sitting quietly
with you after a day's work
tea cups in hand, savouring
the fragrance of smoky tea
and the silence that comes
from a deep sense of compainionship

I miss, coming upon you sitting on a bench
face turned toward the sun, hands spread wide
i  an act of joyful worship, a smile lighting up
your face,

I miss the itense look of concentration, as you
described a new thought or concept to others
and the loosed limbed wonder of you as you
came alive upon the stage....

the generosity of heart and spirit,
your allocentricity...

all these things i miss and more
and most days I find some new
thing that I miss...

but...
my missing you
is a living elegy

I miss most
the sound of your voice in my ear
...but I hear the echoes
that tell me....
you are stronger than this
....just breathe on through
and wait
for the sun to shine for it will, it will

On the first day of spring, I see bare earth
and feel the cold in my fingers and toes.
So, I ask again when winter will end.
But the birds sing early in the morning
and remind me with the promise of the sun.
Wait, they tell me, for all good things take time.
So, I wait for sun shining on the rain
and for the rain falling in the sunshine.
Here, melted snow mixes with dust and dirt.
But remember, this is where flowers grow.