The beige grass is calling out.
To raindrops that drip.
It's dying of dryness, it begs for relief.
After the sunshine, the dry grass calls grief.
The danger that comes from a being with a match.
As all nature's magic dispatched in a flash.
Trees all blazing, look amazing.
Conjured up pictures.
Destroyed habitats.
Ruined in a flash.
Forest homes and camp sites.
Fires, cremations.
Accidentally by wombats.
Not obeying.
The beige grass is gone.
(c)LIVVI

Paper towns, they blow away.
Fall apart, as rain falls down.
People write on walls , artistic graffiti.
They sign them Banksy.
Hurricanes cause chaos.
Difficult to clean.
If I had a bonfire my paper town would burn.
All the relics would be destroyed.
I'm glad my towns not paper.
(C) LIVVI

Tonight I had a bonfire.
Not too good for mother, but very good for me.
Spiralling smoke curled onwards and upwards.
Wanton destruction of old *******.
Garden remnants and excremental furniture.
I feel cleansed.
My garden feels the same as me.
Flickering dancing colours whirl and crack.
Increased space in my garden,
Pleasure be only mine.
My tree is but a little charred, her magnificence it shall survive.
Next spring presenting blossoms and I know that she's alive.
Resilient she be.
My autumn, spring and summer tree.
(C) LIVVI

Dear lady.
You looked wonderful.
I told you so.
I held the door for you.
Outside Macdonald's in Swaythling
As I would for anyone.
You smiled, and shook my hand as you said" I really ought to as you're one of my loyal subjects"
Tickled me pink.
(c)LIVVI

My body is a temple.
An aged crumbling one.
The windows are poorly misted.
The attic is full of clever stuff.
My ears hear everything they shouldn't and nothing that they should.
And I'm never listening.
(C) LIVVI

Plucking seeds of whirling dandelions swirling through the gleaming sun, tickled by the wind.
Brushing down the pathway, blushing at the stroke of the nettles that nip.
Tomorrow runs round the open space of triangles, swings and grass that's dry, kicking planks of dry wood that's not for brushing.
Furry oak leaves fell, early, not autumn.
Worried that tomorrow aforementioned may utilise the discarded planks to beat their companions and my grandson bears witness to such destruction.
Tomorrow and his companions try to demonstrate annihilation of tinder.
And I wonder, staring on in absolute awe that my gorgeous grandson has not seen this before.
Tomorrow is our future, bored maybe.
I hope he doesn't follow suit.
He's two, his mum is protective...I can only hope he stays as wonderful as he is.
(C) LIVVI

Can we be happy in summer time?
The burning sit fills the glory sky.
Blue skies wonderful, wished for.
Can we be smiling through the heat that burns, while as humans we melt.
Perspiration bath.
Lobster glowing.
We seek shadows and breeze.
The sky hangs heavy above my head.
I sneeze the pollen wayward.
Again and again.
The fever of the itching eyes and tickling grass.
Raining soon.
Blessed at last.
(c)LIVVI