He Hides

My feet finally rooted

I dare to the window to watch

The funny ol’ man who wanders with a triangular kind of walk, steady though

I listen faithfully for his footsteps, just because

Just because he almost never makes a sound otherwise

Except that he talks to the sunrise

And I’ll hear him again later when I sit for breakfast

Afternoons, while I’m in the yard, there’s the clickety-clack of his feet heading home 

Amusingly, and not often enough, he shouts random thoughts to the flowers, who he seems to love so well

Once, at breakfast, I got brave

I asked whether he was in need

I whispered actually, but he heard, then did at once oblige and set a spell

Now, at night, he knocks

I wake to talk, but he hides

Funny ol’ man

Koala Tricks

One ought not say “no, never”
But never applies to this
Never show up 
With just a heart and a cup 
To the Outback
Uninvited

Should the King of Kangaroos
In royal penmanship scribe
On crazed parchment
Rambling that you be present 
Test the bid for
Eucalyptus 

Honey, Come Home

The attempt to describe what must only be felt will, at best, leave one longing for proof

It’s the warm, vintage light and the welcome white noise -eager footsteps not shuffling to greet you

There’s the “thank-you-God” eyes and the rules about kisses that apply to goodbyes and hellos

The dinner hour near, it is time to give chase to the table, for the smell of the sauce does compel 

Do you picture the taste, do you sense the good love, do you dare touch the gifts from above

I left the light on, my account is not wrong, but again, you must feel for yourself

Oh, Flora

I’m not afraid to tell it
How the flora on my left
Likes to brag to all the fauna
That she’s taken with the West

Maybe ’twas the mountain 
Or the headlands on the coast
Who touched soft upon her shoulder
And of whom, ’til death, she’ll boast