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grass traces circles
dune crests flick quiffs
desert wind

in morning cold air
long shadows blur
the butcher bird hunts

young crows tend graves
pluck red silk petals
drop them into the breeze

under the jam wattle
a puff of lavender butterflies
flit over iron stone

scent

threat bursts becomes action
wet fists pound iron roofs
sun scorched dust
and cloud cold rain
mash in a splash

when elements collide
I wait for the scent to rise

spring day

spring day buds popped
blossom swung under blue sky
compliments of the sun

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beneath the flowering gum
rain is sweet

nine twenty

by the ticking clock
which is either
too slow
or
too fast
never tocks the
middle path

Grey Nomads

He navigates
a fast escape
from aged homes
open mouthed drool

Slumped asleep
front seat
glasshoused heat
she dreams of everlastings

tweetku too

hung clouds

dead washing

silent phone

vacant letter box

inbox spam

nowhere stare

room echo

drawn blind

no calls

no answers

voice laid off